


Siren Call

by DNAchemLia



Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen, NCIS Big Bang, Temporary Character Death - sorta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 20:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8224589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DNAchemLia/pseuds/DNAchemLia
Summary: A series of mysterious disappearances aboard a Navy research ship sends three members of the MCRT into the heart of the Bermuda Triangle. While the team struggles to solve the case, McGee reunites with some old friends and finds an unlikely ally. Sequel to Whirlwind, but not necessary to read that first (unless you want to ;) ).





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> No spoilers. AR/AU, Season 9-ish.
> 
> Special thanks to thecookiemomma (sunsaralyn) for both the awesome art and beta-ing, and to PhoenixRising (phoenixrising01) for beta-ing as well.
> 
> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of their respective copyright holders. No infringement intended. The original characters and places mentioned are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to those living, dead, or undead is completely coincidental.

**Prologue**

The setting sun slipped below the horizon as a lone figure made his way out onto the deck of the gently swaying vessel. One hand steadied him against the railing and he navigated the path from the bridge to the stern, pausing to tighten his grip when the ship hit a sizable wave. Thankfully they were few and far between and finally he reached the end the deck that overlooked the ship's wake.

Lt. Commander Caleb Seegar took a deep breath and let it out slowly, enjoying the taste of the salt air and feeling of freedom after spending far too much time below deck over the past few days. Not that he was unused to being below deck: he had spent a good portion of his life on ships and at sea. First as a child, accompanying his father and grandfather on day trips about the family sailboat, then as a teenager at the helm of his own small vessel, and finally as a member of the Navy, where he spent months at a time working on every type of ship, from massive aircraft carriers and destroyers to small auxiliary and support vessels.

His current position, second in command of a small blue-water research ship, was a pleasant change of pace, despite some problems he had encountered for the first time on this particular voyage. The Atlantic Basin was never a pleasant place to be during hurricane season, and thankfully the storms this year had been few, but when they did hit…

Another wave jolted the ship, causing him to tighten his grip on the railing. His stomach twinged uncomfortably and he winced, imagining the hell he'd catch from his grandfather if he could see him now, a fifth generation Navy officer clinging to the side of a ship like some green-gilled nub. He relaxed his grip and stood up straighter, using the view of the eastern horizon to regain his equilibrium. He waited in silence as the first stars of the evening began to make their appearance, something he had always looked forward to after a storm.

Noticing a strange sort of fog starting to roll out over the water from the south he frowned. Were they headed for more rough weather? He hadn't seen any notices before leaving the bridge but if they were then he'd better prepare. He didn't think he's survive another bout of nausea such as he'd experienced with the last storm. He scanned the skies but saw no sign of storm clouds on the horizon. As he returned his attention to the thin fog he noticed something very odd - the curls of mist were giving off a faint, greenish glow. He decided it has to be some trick of the light and he shook his head to clear his vision. The illusion persisted.

_Weird…_

He continued to watch the slowly swirling mist spread over the eastern horizon, pondering the sometimes inexplicable things he had seen on his voyages. This was probably just another one of those quirks of nature one often experienced while at sea, particularly in this particular stretch of ocean...if one believed the legends.

Lt. Commander Seegar was not, by nature, a superstitious man. He scoffed at the idea of unnatural occurrences, no matter where his ship might be. He decided it must be a lack of sleep affecting his vision and started to head back to midships and down to his quarters below deck. He was turning away from the stern when something caught his eye and he turned back. His eyes widened as he took in the image, barely discernible in the distance, its edges blurred by the fog.

He blinked and shook his head, but it was still there - the ghostly silhouette of a sailing vessel, its tall masts and square sails reminiscent of the ships that had traveled these waters hundreds of years ago. As he watched the ship slipped into a thicker area of the fog and seemed to vanish before his eyes.

Seegar blinked and shook his head again before he tried to find where the ship-if it was even really there-could have gone but there was no sign of its presence. Deciding that he really must need sleep, he once again started towards his rack but something else drew his attention, something almost as incomprehensible as the seemingly vanished ship.

_Is that...singing?_

He stopped to listen as the soft, lilting melody-so oddly out of place on a Navy ship-drifted across the expanse of the deck. He tried to determine its source, to determine who could be playing such an uncharacteristic tune as he was drawn back towards the stern. It almost sounded as if it was coming from the ocean itself.

_Impossible…_

He scanned the expanse of ocean surrounding the ship. Was another ship close by, hidden by the fog? Could it be from the ship he had glimpsed, perhaps some sort of fancy excursion on a historic replica?

He reached the rail, gripping it tightly as he leaned forward in his attempt to follow the sounds. He strained against the metal bar, listening intently as the music washed over him. He started to relax and his grip loosened around the railing. A warning bell started to sound in his brain just as the ship hit another wave, jarring him loose from his precarious perch. Too surprised to act, he tumbled over the railing, slamming his head against the side of the ship before the force of gravity pulled him down into the inky depths below.

He hadn't even had a chance to scream.

TBC...


	2. Chapter 1

The elevator doors slid open and Tony strode through them on his way to the bullpen. Seeing that there was only one other occupant to witness what he was about to do, Tony grinned and started to sing.

" _Good morning! Good morning! Good morning to you! Good morning! Good morning! Good morning to you! Our day is beginning, there's so much to do. Good morning! Good morning! Good morning to you!"_

As he finished his performance he took in his teammate's reaction, his grin broadening at the expression on McGee's face. The younger man clearly thought Tony had lost his mind, but beneath the surface annoyance and amusement fought for control. After a brief moment, he raised his hands from the keyboard and gave three slow, very sarcastic claps. Tony bowed deeply in return and walked to his desk where he sat down and turned to face McGee, still grinning.

"Dare I ask what has you in such a good mood?"

"Why wouldn't I be in a good mood, McGrouchy? It's a beautiful summer morning, and-."

"You're trying to distract me, aren't you? From remembering the date."

Tony winced. "Guess it didn't work, did it?"

McGee shook his head and returned to his work, leaving Tony with the unfortunate experience of remembering what had happened and wishing he could forget himself.

It had been exactly one year ago that he and Ziva had been sitting in the bullpen, restricted to desk duty while Gibbs and McGee had been on assignment aboard a research ship, when they learned that ship had been blown up and sunk by one of the crew members. A day later they learned that the crew had been rescued from the ship's lifeboats but Gibbs and McGee had not been with them.

They were told by the ship's captain that both men had gone overboard and were believed to be lost at sea - a belief that the team held for four months until the two men had managed to escape the island where they had been stranded. The boat and crew that had rescued them after the ill-fated _Raptor_ had gone down had been lost when they were later stranded and Tony knew McGee still harbored guilt over those unfortunate good Samaritans.

A couple of months after his return to NCIS, McGee had received another blow. The remains of his sister, Jana, of whom the team had only recently become aware and had vanished nearly twenty years prior, had finally been found and identified. Ever since the funeral Tim had not quite been himself. He was even more reserved than he had been before the whole 'lost at sea' fiasco, and had withdrawn from all of them, with the exception of Gibbs. Tony knew they spent time together, playing chess or checkers with pieces that had not been purchased but rather made while they were on the island. Tony had witnessed a few of these sessions, but neither man spoke much. McGee had seemed to need the silence, which Tony recognized as the kind of support only Gibbs could provide.

Tony was pulled from his musing by the arrival of the team leader and tried to cover his distraction.

"Good morning, Boss."

Gibbs eyed him silently for a moment. "What, no serenade?"

Tony sputtered and McGee chuckled, which he quickly covered with a cough as Gibbs turned his attention his way. Gibbs smirked and sat down at his own desk, signaling the others to get back to work. The fourth desk remained empty, since Ziva was out on vacation, and the group worked their way through a stack of cold cases as they waited for a call-out. When Gibbs' phone rang, both men raised their heads expectantly as he answered.

"Gibbs." He listened, his expression darkening. "We'll be right up." He hung up the phone and turned to McGee. "Director wants to see us in his office." Tony and McGee both stood, ready to follow Gibbs up the stairs. "Not you, DiNozzo."

"Boss, what's this about?"

"Special request, McGee. That's all Leon told me."

Tony's gut clenched. Something told him this wasn't going to be a simple meeting.

"Boss?" Tony tried to keep his voice calm, but he knew Gibbs had picked up on the stress he couldn't hide. He gave Tony an understanding nod in an attempt to soften his reply.

"Get back to work, Tony. Come on, Tim."

After a glance at Tony that told the senior agent all he needed to know about the apprehension McGee was also feeling, the two men headed up the stairs to the director's office. Tony stared at the balcony, wondering what sort of special request the director had for the rest of his team, and why the idea filled him with overwhelming dread.

XXX

Gibbs didn't bother to knock before he opened the door to Vance's office and stepped inside, followed closely by McGee. Vance was standing behind his desk, as expected, and the presence of another person in the room was also expected but Gibbs paused in surprise when he realized who it was.

"Captain Aherns."

The man rose from his seat at the conference table and offered his hand, which Gibbs and McGee shook in turn.

"Agent Gibbs. Agent McGee. It's good to see you again. I never got a chance to thank you in person for what you did. We would have lost much more than just the ship if it hadn't been for you."

McGee shifted uncomfortably and nodded after only briefly meeting the man's gaze. Gibbs knew his agent still carried guilt over the sinking of Ahern's ship, believing that if he had been faster in uncovering the bombing plot the tragedy would never have occurred. Gibbs decided to make this meeting as brief and painless as possible for the sake of the younger man.

"Director Vance said you need our help."

"I did. Maybe we should all sit down." Vance moved to the head of the conference table while Gibbs and McGee sat across from Captain Aherns. The man was clearly struggling to maintain his veneer of professionalism and it was obvious that something had him spooked. He cleared his throat several times before he finally started to speak.

"After the _Raptor_ went down, my command was heavily scrutinized. Finally the investigation cleared me of any fault and I was assigned to another research vessel, the _Cerberus_ , which would take over the _Raptor's_ mission...in that same area of the ocean."

"The Bermuda Triangle."

"Yes."

"And I take it the mission hasn't gone as well as you hoped," Vance prompted. Aherns chuckled mirthlessly and shook his head.

"Two weeks after we left port, one of my sailors went missing." He removed a file from his briefcase and slid it across the table to Gibbs. "Petty Officer 3rd class Bradley Hawkins, electrician's mate. It was his first off-base assignment, but he impressed the Chief Petty Officer who worked with him with his work ethic, CPO Theodore Bailey. He was the one who reported Hawkins missing the morning after we passed through a storm. Rough seas, inexperienced sailor, so we believed it was an accident which we reported."

He pulled out a second folder. "Three months later, Senior Chief Petty Officer Scott Hamlin, culinary specialist. Reported missing by the Quartermaster, Master Chief Petty Officer Matthew Turner. Also the morning after a storm, but Hamlin was on his fourth tour. We had no reason to believe he would have been careless enough to have fallen overboard. Turner spoke with his crewmates and they did not know of any reason that might cause him to...jump."

"Any connection between the two men?" McGee asked, earning a brief nod of approval from Gibbs.

"None. Other than in the mess, I don't believe they ever interacted."

"How many crew members on the ship?"

"Eighty-five crew. Well, eighty-three now. Eight...seven officers and two civilian scientists." The flash of sadness that crossed Ahern's face was brief but intense. "Which brings me to the latest disappearance." He pulled a third folder from his briefcase and handed it to Gibbs. "Lt. Commander Caleb Seegar, my second in command, failed to report to the bridge three days ago. We searched the ship and found no trace of him. He's a fifth generation Navy officer with an exemplary record and he's one of the best officers with whom I've had the pleasure of serving. He was due for promotion at the end of the year. He'd have _no_ reason to…"

"Understood. I take it there's no connection between Lt. Commander Seegar and the other two men?"

"Other than his commanding role, no."

"Do you know of any animosity between any of the men and other members of the crew or officers?" Vance asked.

"No. I run a tight ship. Any clashes between crew members are dealt with quickly and fairly. I've seen no evidence of tension, other than the normal flares of temper you'd see on any ship, and none of those men appear to be the type to hold a grudge." He studied Gibbs' expression and sighed. "But that's something you'd have to investigate, isn't it?"

"Did any of the crew or officers serve under you on the _Raptor?_ "

"Three crew, including the Quartermaster and one officer."

"Any connection between them and the missing men?"

"None of which I am aware. And before you ask, there was no apparent resentment from these men in regards to being assigned to my command again. That was something that was determined before they stepped foot on the _Cerberus."_

"Good to know, but I was wondering if they would have a problem with us being the ones to investigate again."

"I doubt it. One of the enlisted men, Petty Officer Haywood, was quite impressed with Agent McGee's skills. He made that clear to me after the _Raptor_ went down that he didn't blame either of you for what happened. He seemed sincere in that belief."

"OK. Do you think the men would be willing to cooperate with us again?"

"I believe so, yes."

"What are you thinking, Gibbs?"

"I'm thinking that we might need someone else. Someone that the men might be more willing to talk to than a couple of NCIS agents."

"Someone undercover, you mean."

"Yes."

"Do you have someone in mind?" Aherns asked.

"Another agent on my team."

"And is he competent undercover?"

Gibbs smirked. "He can be."

"You want to send DiNozzo in?"

"You really think we'd keep him from going this time, Leon?"

"I suppose not. Very well. When would my agents need to be on the ship?"

"We're docked at Norfolk, with shore leave cancelled, for two more days. The crew is expecting replacements to join us before we depart, so Agent...DiNozzo?" Gibbs nodded. "Agent DiNozzo could join the crew then. If you wanted to give him a couple of days to integrate himself with the crew…"

"We'll follow a day or two later."

"Will that give him enough time to prepare?"

"He's familiar with the workings of a Navy ship, having spent time as Agent Afloat," Vance replied. "We wouldn't be sending him as an officer, so he'll be replacing your culinary specialist."

"Yes, that would work."

"In the meantime, Gibbs and McGee will be gathering background information on the rest of the crew so they'll be well prepared for the interviews they'll conduct. Is that acceptable?"

A flash of relief crossed the Captain's face. "Yes, that will work. Thank you." He rose and shook hands with the three men. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate this, especially after…"

"We're always willing to help," McGee answered, receiving a surprised look from Vance and an approving smile from Gibbs.

"Thank you. I best be getting back to my ship." He replaced his cover and left, leaving the three remaining men to sit in silence for a moment before Vance finally spoke.

"What are you thinking, Gibbs? These could just be accidents, you know."

"Or coincidence? No such thing, Leon."

"So I have been informed. I trust you'll have Agent DiNozzo ready in time?"

"Count on it. Come on, McGee."

Tim rose from his seat and silently followed Gibbs to the elevator. Once they were inside Gibbs flipped the switch and turned to his younger agent.

"Are you OK with this, Tim? You said you never wanted to get on a boat again."

McGee managed a weak smile. "Doesn't look like I have much choice. If there's something we can do to prevent any more sailors from going missing… Besides, how likely is it that we'd get lost at sea again?"

Gibbs chuckled. "Not very." He flipped the switch and the elevator started to descend again. "Time to break the news to DiNozzo."

XXX

"You're going to do _what?_ " Tony stared at his Boss, hardly able to believe what he had just heard.

"What part of 'investigate missing crewmen' didn't you understand, DiNozzo?"

"Oh, I understood that part just fine, it's the part where you mentioned returning to the place where you were lost as sea for four months and believed dead by everyone else that I didn't quite get."

"Come on, Tony. What's the chance of lightning striking twice in the same place?" McGee tried to calm his partner, but Tony was having none of it.

"None, because the same place isn't there anymore. You can't seriously thinking of going back to the freaking Bermuda Triangle!"

"You're going, too, DiNozzo."

"I...what?"

"Undercover, as part of the crew."

"But why… You think they'll tell me stuff they won't tell an agent. And I can keep an eye on things from the inside."

"Got it in one."

"But… Damn it. At least tell me I'll be able to keep an eye on you as well."

"Always good to have an extra pair of eyes on a mission, Tony. And look at the bright side: you get to go undercover. You love going undercover," McGee offered.

"No, I really don't. Especially not…. OK, at least tell me I get to be an officer."

"Nope. Culinary specialist," Gibbs replied.

"Culinary… You want me to go undercover as a cook?"

"The position was open."

"Yeah, 'cause the last one disappeared!"

"You're aware of the threat. You'll be more alert to the danger."

"And lightning doesn't strike twice in the same place. Right."

McGee pulled up some documents on his computer. "I can help you get ready, Tony."

"I know how to cook, McGee."

"Actually, you'll be in more of a management role. Paperwork, preparing menus, organizing shifts…"

"Sounds like I'd rather cook." He studied McGee. "Are you really OK with this? I mean…"

"It's our job, Tony. Do you want to tell more families that their loved ones went missing?"

Tony winced at that memory. "No, I don't." He sighed. "OK, fine. Send me the information and we'll get started."

"On it." McGee's fingers flew across the keyboard as he started to fulfill the request. Gibbs tilted his head towards the elevator and Tony followed. Soon they were inside the metal box, stopped between floors, when Gibbs turned to his agent.

"Get your head on straight. You're no good for watching our backs or you own if it's not."

"Yeah, I know, it's just… I've got a really bad feeling about this, Boss."

Gibbs stared at him in silence for several moments before he sighed. "Yeah, me too."

"So what do we do?"

"Get in, figure it out, and get out as soon as possible."

"I can agree with that. But in the meantime?"

"Be careful."

Tony sighed in resignation. "On it, Boss."

TBC…


	3. Chapter 2

Tony adjusted his cover before hefting his duffel bag over one shoulder and walking towards the dock where the _Cerberus_ was berthed. It was a much larger ship than he had expected, given his previous (and admittedly limited) experience with research ships, but was surprisingly low-slung in the water. The deck and surrounding docks were bustling with crew members going about their tasks, and as he studied their expressions he noticed an air of tension surrounding the men and women assigned to the ship, although the collective anxiety did not seem to be affecting their work.

Tony made his way over to the gangplank where he was met by the Quartermaster. His I.D. was checked and he was given his duty station and rack assignment, located in the first below deck level in the center of the ship. He managed to weave his way through the crew until he found a ladder when took him to that area and quickly located his quarters, where he dropped off his bag before reporting for duty.

By the time the ship was ready to set sail, Tony was silently thanking McGee for his prep work on the undercover identity. While Tony remembered plenty of terminology and protocol from his time as Agent Afloat, the more specific terms related to his job had taken time to master, and McGee had provided very detailed background into the job and his identity. After two days of grilling, he had the basics down pat, and was reasonably comfortable with the rest. His first few hours on the job had put that to the test and he had passed with only a few minor stumbles, mistakes that could easily be written off as the result of being new to his duty station.

Finally, after the day's work was finished and he was cleared for off-duty, Tony headed back to his rack to hopefully catch a few hours before he started his own investigation. He knew the hardest part would be not reacting to Gibbs' and McGee's presence, but thankfully he had another day or so to get into the full crew mindset so his response would be as expected. Once he reached his quarters his saw that two of his rack-mates were there, playing cards at the small table just inside the door. He waved to them as he gathered his gear to go shower, and when he returned they had been joined by a third man whose eyebrows rose slightly when he saw Tony enter.

"New rack-mate?" He asked the other two men, who nodded.

"Tony Donaldson, culinary specialist, at your service."

"Ted Bailey, electrician's mate" offered the younger of his two rack-mates before he pointed to the other. "This is Danny Silva, boatswain's mate."

"Ryan Johnson, hospital corpsman. You up for a game?"

"Sure. Deal me in. Cash or chips?"

"Chips. The captain doesn't allow gambling of any kind."

"Good to know. Five card draw?"

"Works for me."

Tony sat down at the table with the other three men and waited for the cards to be dealt. They played several hands, with Tony winning a fair share of them, before he started to casually question the men.

"So, how long's your tour been?"

"Eight months on this cruise for all of us. First time on a research ship, too," Silva replied.

"And before that?"

"Working a thirty-six aboard an aircraft carrier." He chuckled. "This one's been a lot quieter...mostly."

"Mostly?"

The three men glanced at each other. "Do you know why you were assigned?"

"I was told I replaced someone. Didn't give me a reason why, though. Do you know what happened?"

Johnson gave a mirthless chuckle. "Not exactly." He met Tony's surprised gaze. "Guy you replaced vanished...guess it was about four and a half months ago, now."

"'Vanished'? You mean he fell overboard or something?"

"Or something."

"Jumped?"

"No," Silva declared. "That's pretty much the only thing I've been sure about on this cruise. Scott wouldn't have jumped."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, one: because he had too much to live for. Adored his wife and kids. Plus he was a firm believer in the whole 'suicides go straight to Hell' thing. We talked about it when the kid disappeared."

"Kid? What kid?"

"Brad Hawkins, worked under me. Good kid, even if he was a bit green. First blue-water tour."

"So what happened?"

"We think he fell overboard. We'd just passed through a storm and the seas were pretty rough. Someone suggested he jumped, and...well, Scott made his views on that pretty clear."

"So two people on this ship have gone overboard?"

"Three. The captain's second in command, Lt. Commander Seegar."

"That's...weird. Doesn't sound like someone who'd accidentally fall overboard...or jump."

"Not hardly. Seegar was dyed-in-the-wool Navy. Spent his whole life on the water, or so I've heard."

"Definitely weird."

Bailey chuckled. "There's a rumor going around that the Captain is cursed. His last ship blew up and sank, you know."

"Nope, didn't know that. Wasn't his fault, then, since they gave him another ship?"

"They didn't seem to think so."

"So maybe all of this is just coincidence," Tony offered, inwardly wincing. "Or maybe there was something else going on. Drugs?"

"No way. Captain Aherns runs a really tight ship. Random piss tests and everything."

"Huh. Maybe someone else is doing it to make him look bad."

Silva laughed. "Killing sailors just to make the Captain look bad? That's pretty extreme, man."

"Yeah, I guess it is."

"Oh, hey, I know," Bailey chortled with an amused glance at Johnson. "Maybe it was aliens that took them. Or seamonsters. Or _ghosts_."

"Har, har," grumbled Johnson. "I never should have said anything."

"About what?"

"Ryan here says he saw a ghost ship, one night while on watch."

"I said it _looked_ like an old ship, like something out of an old pirate movie. Had to have been an optical illusion."

"Or an overactive imagination."

"Where did you see it?" Tony asked and Johnson rolled his eyes.

"I _didn't_ see it. Like I said, had to have been an optical illusion. No such thing as ghosts...or ghost ships."

"Riiiiight," Bailey mocked and Johnson shot him a dirty look.

"Bite me, Ted."

"Kinky," Silva grinned and both men smacked him on opposite arms. "Better get back to the game. Duty starts in an hour."

"Trying to lose all your chips, Buddy?"

"Nope. Gonna take all of yours."

"Bring it on."

Tony watched the banter with a smile as they continued to play, but in his head he was worried. The possibility that this was a plot against the Captain complicated things. He just hoped the collateral damage wouldn't include any member of his team.

Finally, after Tony had collected most of the chips, his two rack mates grumbled good-naturedly and headed off to their duty stations, leaving him alone with Johnson.

"Need to hit the rack," Tony declared. "Play again sometime?"

Johnson shook his head and chuckled ruefully. "I guess you don't remember me, Agent DiNozzo."

Tony froze, staring at the man and trying to gauge his mood as their carefully prepared persona seemed to be crumbling.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."

"It's been awhile, so I'm not really surprised you don't remember. You and your team helped my family." Johnson grinned. "So don't worry, I won't blow your cover." His smile vanished. "I'm just glad someone's investigating, because something weird is _definitely_ going on." He met Tony's gaze. "And I have no idea what."

"What else can you tell me?"

Johnson shrugged. "Not much. I know we were alerted after each disappearance and we searched the ships. We never found anything."

"Any security video of the deck?"

Johnson sighed. "Supposed to be, but the damn system has been on the fritz since we started. Hawkins was actually supposed to fix it, but then he…"

"So you think someone is out to get the Captain?"

"I don't know. I know a couple of guys that served with him before are on this cruise, but they all seem to respect him." He paused to think. "If I were you, I'd start with the officers."

"I'll let my boss know. He'll be here in a couple of days."

"Right."

"Anything else that comes to mind?" He shook his head. "You said you're a hospital corpsman." He nodded. "See any of the victims come through sick bay before they disappeared?"

"Well, yeah, but so did a lot of other sailors. Mainly for drug tests."

"Did you test them?" He nodded. "Find anything?"

"No, and I would have reported it if I did. Their ELISAs - screening tests - were all clean."

"OK. If you think of anything else…"

"I know where to find you." He gave Tony a brief salute and left. Tony went to his bunk and lay down, going over the information in his mind. He really hoped Gibbs and McGee would have better luck, because so far he hadn't gotten anything useful...except perhaps an ally.

XXX

McGee struggled to control his anxiety as the helo approached the ship. He'd spent the past few days doing as much background checking as he could for the crew, but so far he hadn't turned up anything unusual in any of the usual places, or any apparent connection between the three men. He hoped Tony was having more luck, or that they'd learn more during the interviews, because so far they were running blind, and he hated that feeling, almost as much as being seasick.

He glanced down at his wrist, the bracelet he wore hidden by his jacket. Supposedly the single bead, when placed against the underside of his wrist, would prevent seasickness, but that wasn't the reason he wore it. It had been given to him by one of the ill-fated crew members of _Whirlwind_ , the sailing vessel that had rescued him and Gibbs after the _Raptor_ went down. It served as a reminder of the dangers, and the need to be careful on this particular mission.

The helo lurched slightly and he unconsciously placed a hand over the patch on his neck. _Better safe than sorry, especially where ships and seasickness are concerned_. He lowered his hand when he noticed Gibbs staring at him, unable to hide the slight blush that arose in his cheeks.

"You alright?"

"Fine, Boss. I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

He huffed softly. "Let's just say there are places I'd rather be, but I've got a job to do, and I'm going to do it. I can do it, Boss."

"I know you can, McGee."

Tim gave him a weak smile. "Thanks."

Once they were onboard the ship the Captain came out to greet them.

"Agent Gibbs, Agent McGee, thank you for coming. I assume you'd like to start right away?" Gibbs nodded. "Fine. Quartermaster Turner will show you to your rack, and then he will take you both to the room we've set up for interviews."

"We'll need computer access."

Aherns smiled. "Of course. We'll have that set up for you ASAP. Anything else?"

"We're good."

"Carry on, then."

One of the sailors let them below deck to a small room with two bunks. They stowed their gear and then followed him to another room that had a table and chairs set up, along with a computer for McGee. After a nod of thanks from Gibbs the sailor left and Gibbs turned to McGee.

"You ready for this?"

McGee nodded. "I'm ready. Let's get started."

Several hours later McGee sighed in frustration. They'd started with the enlisted men who worked with the missing sailors, but none could provide information as to why the men may have exited the ship. They were taking a short break to review what little they had when Tony entered the room, dressed in his service uniform.

"The Captain has requested that you join him in the officer's mess at 2100."

"Thank you."

Tony carefully slipped Gibbs a note before he left and after checking to make sure they were alone Gibbs opened it.

"What does he say?"

"Nothing yet. One of the hospital corpsmen suspects something is going on. He's looking into a possible plot aimed at the Captain. He'll get back to us with more tomorrow."

"Damn. I was hoping he'd have more by now."

Gibbs expression was surprisingly sympathetic. "Looks like we're in this for the long haul, McGee."

"Yeah. That's what I was afraid of."

TBC…


	4. Chapter 3

When McGee woke the next morning, after a restless night and very little sleep, he was not surprised to find that Gibbs was already up and gone. What did surprise him was the note the lead agent had left, telling McGee that he'd 'gone for coffee'. McGee quickly got dressed and headed to the officer's mess where he expected to find Gibbs, only to be told by one of the officers that the agent had left only a few minutes before.

After deciding that he'd be in much better shape to face Gibbs (and the case) if he had a good dose of caffeine in his system, he grabbed a cup of coffee, doctored it properly with cream and sugar, and sat down at one of the tables to drink it. A few minutes later one of the sailors brought him two pieces of lightly buttered toast. He looked up towards the kitchen and caught a glimpse of Tony, who gave him a quick wink, causing McGee to smile to himself. His partner still had his back.

"You know those don't really work, don't you?"

McGee looked up to see an older man with the insignia of a first lieutenant on the collar of his uniform.

"I'm sorry?"

The man pointed to the bracelet on McGee's wrist. "That. Old wives tale. Really does nothing to help. Seasickness, right?"

McGee blushed slightly. "Yeah, sometimes."

"I've got something better in sick bay if you need it."

He pulled down the collar of his shirt to expose the patch on his neck. "I'm covered, thanks."

"Good. Mind if I join you?"

McGee waved his hand towards one of the empty chairs at his table and the other man sat down, unloading his tray before holding an hand out to shake.

"Dr. Nathan Worley."

"Tim McGee."

"Agent McGee, correct?" Tim nodded. "With NCIS, of course. I heard there were investigators on board. Anything I can do to help?"

McGee glanced around the officer's mess but there was no one within earshot. "Uh...well, I'll be needing access to medical files...for the three missing sailors, that is."

"I'm sure you know I can't release those without a warrant."

"Don't worry, we have authorization."

"I see. In that case I'll be happy to help. Anything in particular that you're looking for?"

"I understand this ship has a very strict drug testing policy."

"We do. I supervise most of the testing myself, and the rest is handled by three corpsmen. I imagine you'll want to speak with them at some point?" McGee nodded again. "I'll make sure they're available, then." He cocked his head to study McGee. "You think these sailors went missing due to drugs?"

"We have to explore every possibility."

Worley laughed. "A very unlikely one. Captain Aherns runs a _very_ tight ship."

"Anyone have an issue with that?"

Worley considered the question. "I imagine they do, but know better than to say anything about it. I'm sure most realize the necessity of it, though. Other than those...disappearances, our safety record is exemplary."

"Good to know."

"Which reminds me: exercise extra caution if you go up on deck later this evening. We're expecting a storm later." He chuckled. "Sick bay is always busy during one of those."

McGee felt an uncomfortable twinge in his stomach. "I can imagine." He checked his watch. "I better get going."

"Good luck, Agent McGee."

"Thanks."

He left the mess and headed for the interview room, where he found a rather irate Gibbs waiting for him.

"Find anything?"

"We'll get cooperation for accessing the medical records. I… I can get started on that."

"Not yet. Come on." Gibbs stalked out of the room and McGee followed him to the lowest level of the ship to an isolated storage area. Tony joined them a few minutes later.

"What do ya got?"

"Good to see you, too, Boss." He caught Gibbs' glare and continued. "Not much so far. His shipmates don't believe CPO Hamlin or Lt. Commander Seegar committed suicide. They're not so sure about the first victim, though, although the common belief is that he fell overboard during a storm. Speaking of which-"

"There's one headed this way. Got that. Anything else?"

"Security video has been on the fritz. It was Hawkins' responsibility to fix it when they started out, but he didn't get the chance. When it does work, there are three areas of the deck that aren't covered: the far corner of the port stern, the point of the bow, and the far corner of the starboard stern. The point of the bow is visible from the bridge, but the other two points are blocked from view by the radar equipment. If they went over from the deck, those are two possible points of exit."

"And below deck?"

"There's an access hatch at port midships, but that's almost impossible to open singlehandedly. Unless you're the Hulk or something."

"So you've got where. Any ideas on why?"

"A couple of the enlisted I talked to think it's a plot to discredit the Captain. Apparently he's pretty strict about vices. Might have pissed someone off enough to try and get him relieved of command." He glanced at McGee and grinned. "There was also talk of aliens and… thanks, Boss."

"Got specifics for me on who might be behind it?"

"No. Not yet. How's it going on your end?"

"Slow," offered McGee. "I got the same report on the Captain being strict. I'll be checking the drug test records for any potential candidates for the revenge angle. I've checked financials for the victims and didn't find anything...but you already knew that. If I find anything in the medical records I'll do some cross checking."

"You do that. Anything else?" Both younger men shook their heads. "Alright. We'll meet again at 0600 tomorrow." Gibbs headed for the door and McGee started to follow when Tony gripped his arm to stop him.

"You doing OK, McGee?"

"Yeah, fine so far. Thanks for breakfast."

Tony grinned. "No problem. Gotta fuel that giant brain of yours so we can figure this out and get out of here ASAP."

"No arguments from me."

Tony clapped him on the shoulder. "That's the spirit. Stay safe, Probie."

"You, too. See you later."

"Count on it."

McGee hurried to follow Gibbs and they made their way back to the interview room. The rest of the day was spent talking to enlisted men, with the expectation that they'd be dealing with officers and scientists the following day. None of the interviewees were helpful, although McGee did detect some anxiety from many of the junior crew members, which he chalked up to natural nervousness related to dealings with law enforcement.

By the end of the day McGee was exhausted and nauseous, a combination of stress and the increasing activity of the waves surrounding the ship. Gibbs finally seemed to take pity on him and he headed for his bunk.

"Going to be a rough night," offered one of the sailors as McGee passed. "Better strap yourself in." McGee just waved a thank you, afraid to open his mouth to reply. Finally he lost the battle and rushed to the closest head, losing what little he'd managed to eat that day. When he exited he saw Dr. Worley, whose expression conveyed silent sympathy.

"Any way I can help?"

"I'm good, thanks. I just need to go to bed."

"If that changes, just let me know."

"Thanks."

Finally he made it to his bunk, where he stripped off his jacket and shoes before climbing into the small space. He noticed that there was a set of straps there to keep the occupant from falling out of bed in rough seas but he decided that if he needed to make another hurried trip to the head they would just impede him.

A couple of hours later he was still awake and he heard Gibbs return. The older man settled onto his bunk and after a few moments of McGee pretending to be asleep he heard Gibbs speak.

"You OK, McGee?"

"I'll live," he whispered and heard a soft chuckle in reply, followed a moment later by a calloused hand resting on his forehead. That little bit of unexpected comfort helped more than he would have believed and soon he drifted off into a restless slumber.

That slumber was interrupted a few hours later by the need to empty his stomach. He grabbed his shoes, hat and jacket on the way out and stumbled to the head once again. When he was finished he rinsed his mouth and stepped out into the corridor, which was unoccupied. Deciding that he's never get back to sleep until after the storm passed, he made his way down to the small office they had set up for computer work and started to examine the medical records as a way to focus and calm his nerves.

He had been reading for about an hour when he noticed something strange. Pausing a moment to think, he then pulled up the data from the last drug tests. The screening tests didn't provide much information, but the additional protein tests proved to be interesting. Suddenly he realized what was going on, and after checking who had signed off on the tests his heart jumped a bit in his chest. It was their first connection between the three men. He decided it was good enough to wake Gibbs and headed out the door and back to their rack to tell him.

He stepped outside the door but before he could go further something slammed into the back of his head, rendering him temporarily unconscious. As awareness returned, he realized he was wrapped in something that restricted his movements and was being dragged along the corridor. He tried to struggle and cry out, but another blow silenced him. Soon he was lifted and carried a short distance before he was dropped to the ground. The sounds and smells told him he was on deck and the surface lurched with each wave the ship hit.

"Please...no…"

Suddenly he was unbound and falling but before he could cry out for help he slammed into the ocean below, knocking the breath from his lungs. His last desperate attempts to save himself were for nothing as consciousness faded and he slowly sank into the dark depths.

XXX

Gibbs woke with a start, his gut screaming at him that something was wrong. He immediately turned to the opposite bunk and was surprised to find it unoccupied. He had expected McGee to sleep a bit longer, but he suspected the night had been too rough for the younger man and he had decided to get an early start to keep his mind off of his discomfort. The big question was where he had gone first.

Gibbs quickly got dressed and headed for the Mess. Two of the officers were there eating breakfast and he noticed that Tony was hovering in the background, supervising the workings of the kitchen. McGee was nowhere to be seen.

"Did Agent McGee come through here this morning?" he asked one of the servers, who shook his head. Tony's eyes widened but Gibbs caught his gaze and gave a quick shake of his head. He saw Tony collect himself and return the neutral expression to his face, but his eyes showed the worry both men were feeling.

Gibbs immediately ran down to the office where McGee had been doing computer work the day before and found it empty. He then ran to the interview room, finding it empty as well, before he headed for the bridge. Captain Aherns was busy going over charts that his new second-in-command was showing him and looked up in surprise and concern when Gibbs entered.

"Have you seen Agent McGee this morning?"

The worry in Aherns' eyes deepened at Gibbs' question.

"I'm sorry, Agent Gibbs, he hasn't been in here. Lt. Calles?"

"I haven't seen him either, Sir. Sorry."

"I need to see the security feed from last night."

Aherns nodded to Calles, who stepped over to one of the computers and began typing. He frowned when he tried to view the video.

"Looks like there was a problem last night. There's nothing but static for the deck feed. Not all that surprising with the storm and all, but…" He typed a few commands. "Below deck is spotty. What did you need to see?"

"Do you have to corridor outside our rack?"

"Let me check...there." Gibbs watched as the numbers ticked backward. Soon he saw McGee walk backward from the end of the corridor to the head, and then back to their rack. "Looks like he left around 0430."

"Can you see where he went?"

Calles checked the corridor from which McGee had emerged and the video showed him walking towards the area where his office was located. Another feed showed his progress but the final area outside their office showed nothing but static.

"Damn it. What about the surrounding areas?"

Calles checked, but those were static as well.

"Have you been to his office?"

"Yeah. He's not there, but it looked like he was earlier."

"Calles, instruct the Quartermaster to initiate a search for Agent McGee."

"Yes, Sir."

As Calles made the call Aherns turned to Gibbs, his expression finally showing the anxiety he had tried to hide from his subordinate.

"Agent Gibbs, do you think…?"

"I don't know. I really hope not."

"Is it possible that he was up on deck and-"

"No. McGee gets seasick. _Really_ seasick. There's no way in hell he would have gone up on deck in the middle of a storm...for any reason."

A pained look crossed the Captain's face. "We'll find him. If he's still on this ship, my crew will find him."

Gibbs couldn't bring himself to voice the terrible doubt he was feeling towards that statement. He watched from the bridge as a group of men headed out onto the deck to search for his missing agent. Soon a second group entered the bridge and Gibbs joined them in the search of below-decks. Several hours later, both groups returned to report the same thing: they had searched the entire ship and, other than McGee's cap lying forgotten in a shadowy corner of the corridor outside his office, the had found no trace of the young agent.

Tim McGee was gone.

TBC…


	5. Chapter 4

" _Ahoy! Man overboard!"_

Tim jerked awake, wondering why his bed was so wet. It took him a few seconds to realize that he most definitely was not in his bed, but was clinging to a large, flat, rough piece of wood with the lower half of his body suspended in water. He tried to open his eyes but the salt crusting them made it impossible, so he briefly dunked his face in the water in an attempt to wash the salt away, with limited success.

" _Hang on, mate, we're coming!"_

Tim raised his head, looked over his shoulder and squinted, barely able to make out the shape of a life raft headed towards him. He dipped his face in the water again and rubbed his eyes on his sleeve before raising his head and blinking at the horizon. Turquoise blue water stretched out around him, below an intense blue sky with a scattering of fluffy white clouds.

Suddenly he remembered where he had last been and scanned the ocean for signs of the ship but it was nowhere to be seen. He turned in the direction of the raft and he was able to see two men aboard, both deeply tan, one with sun-bleached brown hair and the other with dark curly hair. He couldn't make out their faces, so he searched the area behind them and saw, in the distance, a white sailboat with three figures standing on the deck watching the progress of the life raft.

Finally the sounds of the raft's light motor reached him and he breathed a soft sigh of relief, wondering how he could be doubly lucky to be rescued after apparently going overboard a _second_ time in the middle of the ocean. He heard an exclamation of surprise and turned to look at his rescuers, nearly letting go of the piece of wood when he saw two impossibly familiar faces.

"Jack?" he croaked, his throat burning from the salt water. "Brigg?"

"Bloody hell! Tim! We thought you were dead!" Strong hands gripped his shoulders and dragged him into the raft where he rolled onto his back and stared up into the faces of two men that _he_ had believed dead...and had officially been reported missing nearly six years ago.

Jack scanned the horizon for a few moments as Tim struggled to understand what he was seeing. Finally he turned to Tim.

"Where's Gibbs? Was he with you?"

"He...no...not this time."

" _This_ time?"

"I…" Suddenly the seawater he had apparently swallowed decided to make a reappearance and he leaned over the side of the raft, gasping after he had managed to expel it.

"Let's get him back to the boat. The girls are gonna freak…"

"Right."

Tim slid back into the bottom of the raft and lay with his eyes closed as Jack guided it back towards the waiting sailboat. Tim didn't open his eyes until they were almost there, and when he did he saw another impossible sight, painted across the stern of the ship in letters of the same bright blue he had seen a year ago.

_Whirlwind_

_Hamilton, Bermuda_

Once they had the raft tied up Brigg helped him climb the short ladder up to the deck, where he was met by three very surprised people. He turned to the green eyed woman with bleached brown hair, similar to her husband. "Nerys…" He turned to the other woman, with dark hair and eyes similar to _her_ husband. "Alice…" Finally he turned to a younger man with a mop of curly brown hair. "Artie…"

"Lord have mercy," Alice exclaimed. "Tim? We...we thought you were…"

"Dead," Tim finished, wincing at the idea that that theory might not be all that far off. "Jack told me."

"But how did you-"

"We should give him a chance to get dried off and comfortable," Nerys interrupted, her wide eyes locked on Tim. "Something tells me this is going to be quite a long story."

"Yeah, it is," Tim replied weakly, wondering just what their side of the story would be.

"Alright then, come on. I think I can find you something to wear." He followed Alice down to one of the cabins and she sorted through the assortment of clothes before she handed him a pair of dark green canvas Bermuda shorts and a white T-shirt. "That should do for now."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." She gave him a teary smile. "We're so happy to see you. When you…" She took a deep breath and shook her head. "Right. Story time later."

"OK."

Tim stepped into the small cabin and shut the door before stripping off his wet shoes and clothing and replacing it with the dry, rather loose garments Alice had given him. He gathered his wet clothes and padded barefoot back up to the deck to hang them up to dry. Nerys handed him a mug of water and a wet cloth to wipe the salt from his face, which he gratefully accepted and found a seat on one of the benches that lined the sides of the boat. The rest soon joined him and turned to him expectantly.

"I, uh...why don't you tell me what happened that last time I saw you."

Jack and Brigg shared a surprised look. "Well, there was a storm," Jack began. "You and Gibbs were in your bunks when we the rest of us hunkered down to wait out the storm. The next morning when we woke up, you were gone. We thought you'd been washed overboard. Our dinghy was missing, we could tell it had broken free, so we hoped…"

"We were able to get on it." Tim winced inwardly as he prepared for the lie. "We, uh...we did. We got stranded on an island...found some supplies so we could survive. We were there for four months when a drug runner showed up and tried to kill Gibbs. I, uh…" He blushed at the memory of killing the man who was trying to shoot his boss.

"You protected him. That's what matters," Alice offered with a sympathetic smile, which he managed to return.

"Right. We made it to the Coast Guard base on Puerto Rico, and then home."

"So how did you wind up out here again?" Artie asked.

"We had a case, aboard another Navy ship." Tim winced. He wasn't really sure what had happened to land him in his current situation. "I, uh...I was working, found something and was going to tell Gibbs when someone knocked me out." He shook his head. "And then I guess whoever it was threw me overboard. I don't remember much else."

"Bloody hell, mate. You must be the luckiest bastard on the face of the earth, getting rescued twice in the middle of the Atlantic." Jack grinned at him but Tim didn't feel like returning the gesture.

"I guess…"

"What I don't get," Artie began, "is why you'd ever get on another ship. Once would be enough for me."

"Special request by the captain of the ship. We helped him before, so...he trusted us."

"What was the case?"

"Uh…"

"He probably can't talk about it," Nerys offered. "Active investigation and all that."

"Yeah. She's right."

"Sorry, mate. But don't worry, we'll get you back on the job as soon as we can."

"How?"

Brigg grinned. "We're about a day from our current destination. I'm sure somebody there can figure out how to get you in touch with your boss. No worries."

"Current destination? Where are we going?"

It was Jack's turn to grin. "Fiddler's Green."

Tim froze, the significance of the name not lost on him. Jack noticed his expression and laughed.

"Relax, Tim, it's just a pub on one of the smaller islands. You didn't think this lot would ever make it into sailor's heaven, did you?"

"Speak for yourself," Brigg retorted with a laugh of his own.

"Right, OK. So this...pub, they have a phone I can use?"

"Don't see why they wouldn't. Lots of folks pass through there, and I'm sure some of them at least need to get in contact with people back home. You'll be fine."

"If you say so…"

"I do. So just sit back, relax, and enjoy the trip."

"I'll try."

"That's the spirit! Hey, Artie, grab the poles. It's time to catch something for lunch."

Artie grumbled good naturedly and disappeared below decks, only to appear a few minutes later with a collection of fishing poles and tackle. After a bit of hesitation, Tim helped them get the lines in the water and sat back to wait for something to bite. There wasn't much he could do until they got wherever it was they were planning on going. He just hoped he could find a way back home once they got there, as unlikely as that appeared.

XXX

Gibbs stared at the empty bunk, wondering how in the hell he could have screwed up so badly. He was supposed to watch out for his team, all of them, and he had just let one of his people down in the worst way possible. He knew McGee hadn't wanted to come on this trip. Hell, he could have left him back at the office to do his computer magic but he knew how much the younger man hated to be left behind.

A knock at his door pulled him from his mental self-flagellation and after a brief hesitation he decided to answer.

"Come in," he called, his hand drifting to the butt of his gun. The door opened and he saw Tony standing in the hallway. He checked both directions before stepping through the opening and quickly shutting the door behind him.

"What in the hell happened, Gibbs?" The muscles in his jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth tightly in an obvious attempt to control his anger.

Gibbs sighed. "McGee left around 0430. I was still asleep, didn't hear him leave." Only because he had been exhausted, something he was loath to admit. "Security cameras caught him heading to the room with the computer set-up, but the ones in that corridor were out. We have no idea when he left, or where he went from there."

"Or who took him." Gibbs gave a weary nod. "They never found him, did they?"

"No."

Tony slammed his palm against the wall. " _Damn it!_ We need to tear this entire ship apart! We-"

" _You_ are maintaining your cover."

"The hell I am. You can't do this by yourself!"

"I called in another agent."

"Just like that? Tim's gone and you-"

"Need to find out what the hell happened to him, and make sure somebody pays for it."

"But-"

"McGee was working on something with the drug testing records before he disappeared. He was onto something. We need to find out what that was and find the connection. Until we can do that... We keep investigating. And you keep an eye on the crew from the inside. Someone is going to slip up, and when they do, one of us needs to be there to get justice for McGee and those other sailors. Is that clear?"

Tony looked like he was going to argue further but after a tense moment he nodded stiffly. "Yes, Boss."

"That Captain is turning the ship around to go back to the area it was when McGee disappeared. There's a chance…"

"But not much of one."

"No. Not much of one."

Tony slumped against the door. "God, Gibbs, what are we going to tell his family? Hell, what are we going to tell _Abby?_ "

"That he was doing his job, and if it had to happen, that's they way he would have wanted to go out."

"He didn't _want_ to go at all!"

"Yeah. I know."

They remained silent for several minutes, thinking of the younger man. Tony hadn't expected he'd ever have to deal with this again.

"So much for lightning not striking twice in the same place," he muttered. Gibbs said nothing. Finally Tony managed to pull himself together and straightened, resuming a military stance. Gibbs gave him a small smile and a nod as Tony opened the door, quickly checked the surrounding area and carefully stepped out into the corridor, closing the door behind him.

Gibbs gave him a few minutes head start before he left the room as well, giving the empty bunk one last look before he closed the door and started walking down the corridor to the bridge. They would mourn later, but right now they had work to do.

For McGee.

TBC…


	6. Chapter 5

Tim stood on the bow of the sailboat, watching the sun slowly sink in the west. The day's journey was almost over and he stared thoughtfully at the world surrounding him, wondering what the night would bring.

The sea surrounding them was calm, with just the barest hint of waves undulating the surface. The stray clouds that had been visible earlier in the day were gone, and the western sky was adorned with hues of orange, purple and red.

_Red sky at night, sailor's delight…_

Tim shook his head with a weak smile. It was quite a difference from the previous night's chaos, and a welcome relief, if he didn't think about the rest of the situation.

_Knew I shouldn't have gotten on that ship. So much for lightning not striking twice in the same place. Should have listened to Tony..._

He sighed. It was too late to think about that now. He had no idea how this was going to play out. Was he dreaming? Hallucinating? Had he somehow passed into a different reality? Tim snorted softly at that thought. He'd obviously been spending too much time with the senior agent…

The smile vanished. He'd never spend time with Tony again. Or Gibbs. Or Abby...or his family.

"Tim?" He turned to see Brigg watching him with a worried expression. "You OK?"

"Yeah. Just...just thinking."

"Worrying, you mean." Tim nodded. "You shouldn't. Everything will turn out OK. It did last time, right?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"It will." He smiled. "At any rate, dinner's ready. Come join us."

"OK." He followed Brigg back to the stern where the rest of the group waited. Tim shared the meal with them, but if asked later he wouldn't remember what it was, or how it had tasted. After they had finished and cleaned up. Jack brought out a guitar and Brigg brought out a bottle of rum, both of which served to make the evening pass quickly. Soon it was time to turn in and Tim made his way down to one of the cabins. It was the same one where he and Gibbs had spent that last night, and Tim suppressed a shudder, wondering what he wake up to the following morning.

If he woke up at all.

XXX

It had been the longest - if not the worst - day of Tony's life.

Unable to be directly involved in the search for McGee, he had lingered in the background, trying to pick up any clues as to who might have been responsible for the younger man's disappearance. In the face of yet another mysterious loss, the crew had clearly become nervous, but also, unfortunately for Tony, tight-lipped as well. Well, mostly.

What Tony did hear were some low mutterings of a few sailors who were starting to think that maybe this cruise actually _was_ cursed, and if there was any way to break said curse. He heard other, and more frequent, discussions of the significance of the area of the ocean through which they were moving, and if all of the old legends were true. There was also some speculation that the missing men were merely a prelude to the entire ship vanishing, as had reportedly happened many times in the area. Those who posed those questions also seemed to be wondering if there was some way of convincing Captain Aherns to turn back and abandon the mission.

Then, of course, there were the skeptics, those trying to find a rational, non-supernatural reason, coupled with the significance of the agents' presence on board. Those comments became more frequent after the arrival of another agent on a late-afternoon arriving helo. Tony caught a glimpse of the man when he disembarked, only receiving a slight feeling of comfort when he recognized Stan Burley, a former member of Gibbs' team who seemed to have the characteristics of a good agent, one with much more experience afloat.

As the sun started to set, clouds began to roll in and the wind picked up churning the ocean around them into bigger and bigger waves. Tony finally managed to stumble to his rack to rest, only to find it occupied by his two rack-mates and Johnson. Then men were speaking in low voices when he arrived, only to clam up immediately when the caught sight of the new resident.

"What's going on?"

"Did you hear?" Silva asked. "About that agent?"

Tony managed to keep his expression neutral. Barely.

"I heard they were searching for someone else that went missing. Was it him?"

"It was." Silva worried his bottom lip with his teeth. "This is starting to get too freaky."

"I'll say," Bailey muttered. "I guess it's not just us sailors being targeted, but why would they want a NCIS agent?"

"Why would who want?" Tony asked, wondering if he was finally going to get somewhere.

"Oh, just ignore him. He still thinks it was aliens," Johnson groused. "It's a person. It has to be. Someone with a serious grudge against the Captain who doesn't care how many he takes out as collateral damage."

"If it's a person, why in the hell can't they catch him?"

_Damn good question_ , thought Tony as a surge of anger washed over him and he struggled to remain calm.

"Somebody knows something, but they're not talking, either," Tony replied, hoping his subtle nudge would be enough to shake something loose.

"So you think whoever it is has an accomplice?"

"I think they'd have to. Someone who can turn off the security cameras so no one sees these people being taken."

"How do you know the cameras have been turned off?" Silva asked suspiciously.

Tony mentally kicked himself before coming up with a quick lie. "I heard the agents talking about it."

"Oh."

"But why those people? I mean, what do they have in common? Nothing that I can see." Silva glanced around the group, clearly expecting to find agreement.

"Me either," Bailey admitted before he turned to Johnson. "You sure it's not some medical thing?"

"You know I can't talk about it if it was, but…" Suddenly an odd expression crossed his face, vanishing almost immediately. "No, I don't know of anything." He checked his watch. "I better get back to sick bay." He left and Tony made a mental note to talk to the man later, alone.

"We better get going, too. Later, Tony."

"Hope so," he muttered and the men winced.

"We'll keep our eyes open. I sure as hell don't fancy a swim in this weather," Bailey added and Silva nodded in agreement.

"Yeah. I get that."

After both men left, Tony changed into sweats and laid down in his bunk as he tried to get some much-needed rest, but sleep eluded him. As the ship started to sway more under the influence of the storm, his stomach grew sour and then began to rumble uncomfortably. Finally he couldn't take it any longer and stumbled to the head, emptying the contents of his stomach and collapsing against one wall with a groan.

"Are you alright?"

He looked up to see one of the officers standing in the doorway. It took him a moment to realize that it was the ship's doctor, Lt. Worley.

"Yeah, uh, yes, sir. Sorry. I'm fine, sir."

Worley gave him a sympathetic smile. "But I suspect you've felt better." Tony nodded. "Let's get you down to sick bay and I can give you something that will help."

"Really, sir, I-"

"Don't make me make it an order, sailor."

"Yes, sir."

Worley helped him to his feet and led him down to another part of the ship where the medical facilities were located. Once there he gave him a quick exam and noted the information in Tony's file as Tony checked the area for signs of the medical corpsman he'd most recently seen.

"Is Johnson here tonight, sir?"

"He's doing inventory. We do seem to go through supplies rather quickly. Hopefully we'll be able to get another shipment out here between storms." He finished typing and then left, quickly returning with a small flat package which he opened as Tony watched.

"What's that?"

"Scopolamine patch. Helps to combat nausea associated with seasickness."

"But I don't-"

Worley chuckled. "Nothing to be ashamed of. I've given out quite a few of these on this voyage. You'd be surprised. Here." He peeled off the backing and carefully applied the patch to Tony's neck. "That should help."

"Thanks..uh, thank you, sir."

He chuckled again. "Go get some rest, Petty Officer."

"Yes, sir."

Tony carefully made his way back to his rack and once inside, collapsed onto his bunk where he fell asleep within minutes.

_Tony…_

He jerked awake, blinking owlishly in the low light and wondering what had pulled him from his sleep.

_Tony… Help me…_

"Tim?" He desperately scanned the room for the source of the very familiar voice. "Where are you?"

_Down here… Help me…_

"Oh God…" Tony staggered out of his bunk and to the door, listen for the voice to guide him.

"Tell me where, Tim…"

_The stern… Down at the stern… Help me…_

"I'm coming…"

He stumbled down the corridor and found the ladder that led to the deck, barely managing to keep a white-knuckled grip on the railing as he ascended. He staggered across the expanse of deck to the railing and dragged himself along until he had reached the end of the boat. He looked out over the ocean, hoping to see some sign of his partner, but the rain and mist obscured most of the surface.

Tony saw something move out of the corner of his eye and turned towards the port side, his eyes widening. The faint silhouette of an old sailing ship, her sails unfurled, was just visible in the distance. He blinked a couple of times, shook his head and looked again. The ship was still there, just for a moment, before it vanished.

_No...I didn't see that…_

_Tony… help me… why didn't you stop it…_

"Tim? Where are you?"

He leaned over the railing, searching for the source of that terrified voice. He blinked again as an image began to emerge from the depths. A pale grey face, tinged with green around wide, darker green eyes. Painfully _familiar_ eyes…

_It's your fault...all your fault…_

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Tim, I'm so sorry…"

He leaned down, trying to grasp the pale hands that rose from the water towards him. Reaching… Reaching…

And when a pair of painfully strong hands grabbed him, he didn't even have the breath to scream.

TBC...


	7. Chapter 6

A loud knocking woke Tim and he sat up blinking at his surroundings, not sure whether he should feel sadness or relief. He was still in the same cabin he had been in last night, aboard a boat that should no longer exist, in the middle of an ocean that had claimed more lives than he cared to count.

The knocking returned, followed by a male voice.

"Tim? You awake?"

He stumbled out of his bunk and over to the door, which he opened to reveal Artie, Nerys' younger brother and odd man out.

"Yeah?"

"Nerys and Alice thought you might like to see the sunrise." He chuckled, although the humor didn't quite reach his eyes. "There's nothing quite like it out here." He held up a bundle of clothes. "These are dry now if you'd rather have something of your own to wear."

"Thanks." He accepted the clothes and carefully shut the door before he hurried to get dressed. A few minutes later he had joined the rest of the crew on deck. The grey sky was just beginning to lighten to pink, and the last few visible stars were fading from view in the west. Soon the sky took on a darker red hue, bringing to mind the other half of the old sailor's saying.

_Red sky at morning, sailors take warning._

"Storm later," Tim muttered to himself. Jack heard him and patted his shoulder.

"No worries, mate, we'll be in port by then. Besides…" An odd look crossed his face. "We never get storms out here."

"Never? Isn't that a little, well, odd?"

Jack grinned. "I'm not arguing, mate."

They were quiet for several minutes as they watched the colors fade from dark red to bright orange. Finally the bright yellow orb of the sun peeked above the horizon, turning the sky several shades of shimmering gold.

"Wow," Tim whispered.

Nerys grinned. "Nothing quite like it."

"Yeah…"

They sat and watched for a few more minutes before Alice, Brigg, and Artie headed below to get ready for the day. Tim sat with Jack and Nerys, who were watching the horizon with peaceful, albeit slightly sad expressions.

"Jack?"

"Yeah, Tim?"

"When...the last time we met, you said you were heading home, but… you guys are still out here."

Nerys laughed softly. "Like I told you, Tim, Jack would spend his life at sea if he could. After the storm where we lost...well, where we thought we had lost you and Gibbs...it just seemed like it was more important to be where we truly belonged." Jack nodded in agreement. "After that, not much else seemed to be too important."

"So, you're...happy where you are?"

Jack grinned. "As happy as we could ever be."

"OK."

Jack patted his shoulder again and rose from his seat, heading off to tend to one of the sails. Nerys gave him a smile and went to join Jack, leaving Tim to study the horizon. He could just barely make out the dark shape of a small spot of land in the distance. He stared at it for several minutes, wondering with a slight shudder what awaited him on that island.

XXX

A bright light flashed across Tony's field of vision and he winced, turning his head away from the offending beam. A hand gripped his chin as something pried his eyelids open and the light flashed across them again.

"Pupil dilation is decreasing. He's coming out of it."

"Coming...out...of...what?" He managed to croak before opening his eyes of his own accord and staring into familiar blue ones. "Boss? What…?" He blinked a few times, bringing Gibbs' face into focus. "What happened?"

Gibbs sat back as Tony sat up and scanned the area around him. He was in Gibbs' rack, a room he had recently shared with…

"McGee! Boss, we have to help him! I saw him, down in the water, he-"

"He wasn't there, Tony," Gibbs replied, sadly.

"But I saw…"

"It was a hallucination," Johnson offered, drawing Tony's attention to the young medic he hadn't even realized was in the room.

"A hallucination? But… Damn. Someone slipped me a mickey?"

"Looks like it." Gibbs held up an evidence bag with a fleshed colored round patch inside. "When did you get this?"

"I… Last night, I guess. I was… Something didn't agree with me. The ship's doctor decided I was seasick and…"

"He gave you the patch."

"Yeah." He stared at the offending object. "What the hell is in that thing?"

"Won't know for sure until I can test it," Johnson replied. "They usually contain scopolamine to prevent nausea. It can cause hallucinations but that's extremely rare, occurring in less than 0.1 percent of patients."

"Guess I'm just lucky, then."

"I don't think so. When they do occur, those hallucinations are nowhere nearly as severe as what we saw with you."

"So he doped me on purpose? Why?"

"That's a damn good question." Gibbs turned to Johnson who gazed steadily back.

"I didn't tell anyone who Tony really is, not even Dr. Worley." He turned to Tony. "After I left you last night, I went down to sick bay and told Worley I was doing inventory. I checked through the patient records instead. What you said about them needing something in common was bugging me...and I think I found something. I went to tell Agent Gibbs, we went looking for you and found you at the stern end of the ship. You...were freaking out and we barely managed to keep you from going overboard."

"Guess I owe you one. What did you find?"

"I knew all three men from the ship had been to sick bay at some point before they disappeared. I checked the records and saw that someone else had been viewing them recently."

"McGee."

Johnson nodded. "I was able to figure out what he was searching: the random drug tests. I looked at the results for the three men, and… Someone had faked the tests. The protein profiles that we do as part of a general health check for all of them were _exactly_ the same. That doesn't happen."

"Who did their tests?"

Johnson sighed. "Dr. Worley."

Tony's face twisted in anger. "So you think he figured out Tim knew what was going on and-"

"Probably," Gibbs answered. "Unfortunately we don't have proof."

"So what are we-"

"What we do have proof of is that he gave you that patch. If it's been doctored-"

"Then we can at least hold him for that until we get something better. It's pretty thin, Boss."

"Better than nothing, and if nothing else we can get him for faking the records."

"But with no… no bodies-"

"It's going to be a fight. But we'll do it. For McGee."

"Yeah, we will. So what now?"

"Now...we're going to be searching for another sailor that went missing."

"Who?"

"You."

"Right…"

"How long will it take you to run the tests?"

"A while, unfortunately. We don't have much in the way of diagnostic equipment, but our GC/MS should do the trick...unless whatever it is isn't in the software's library."

"Send the results to our forensic scientist. I'll make sure you can get them to her. She'll figure it out."

"Boss, did anyone tell her about…"

"Not yet."

Tony winced. "She's not going to like us lying to her...even by omission."

"I'll handle it." He turned to Johnson and handed him the bag. Johnson nodded and quickly signed the chain of custody before tucking it into his pocket.

"I can do this, Gibbs."

"Good. Go."

The younger man quickly left and Tony turned to Gibbs.

"You're trusting him with this?"

"Yep. He kept you from going overboard. He earned it."

"Guess I really do owe him one."

"Uh huh."

"So now what?"

"Stay here. No one will search my rack while we're looking for you. Get some sleep."

"And when you get ready to interrogate Worley?"

"You'll get a front row seat."

Tony managed a grim smile. "Good."

XXX

Tim watched from the bow of the _Whirlwind_ as Jack expertly guided her into the harbor at the northern end of the small island. The water around the island was a clear turquoise blue, such that one would see only in the tropics. Countless docks jutted out from the rocky shore, and Tim caught a glimpse of a wide, white sand beach to the south and west of the harbor and a pod of dolphins playing offshore. One thing Tim did not expect was the surprisingly large number of boats tied to the docks, with a fewer number of larger ships moored offshore. Tim thought he could see the massive grey hull of a Navy warship anchored on the eastern side of the island - a _World War I_ era _Proteus_ -class collier warship.

As he studied the boats around them, Tim realized with a sinking feeling that he recognized quite a few of them. While he had never admitted it to anyone, after his last trip to the Triangle he had researched the ships that had mysteriously vanished within that singular expanse of the Atlantic. He had seen the pictures, many of them black and white, but he was now seeing those same vessels here, in full color. He felt a twist in his gut that had nothing at all to do with being on the water.

Jack guided the ketch into one of the slips and Brigg hopped onto the dock, securing the vessel quickly and expertly. He then helped Alice and Nerys step onto the dock, followed by Artie and then, reluctantly, Tim. Jack soon joined them and Tim followed the group to the end of the dock and up a well worn path to the island's highest point, where a larger-than-expected and very weathered single-story building sat. Tim could hear music and raucous laughter as they approached and his eyes were drawn to the battered, clearly hand-painted sign that hung over the entrance, bearing the establishment's name.

_**Fiddler's Green** _

"You OK, Tim?"

"Yeah. Fine."

"Well, come on then."

Tim followed Jack and the rest through the swinging doors and into the interior of the 'pub', although that seemed a poor descriptor to Tim once he stepped inside. It was much brighter than he expected, and filled with people, many of whom were dressed in island causal, although Tim spotted several in uniform, including a large group of men seated in the corner closest to the door.

Tim's companions wove their way through the crowd to the bar, which was unlike anything Tim had ever seen. Rows of jewel-colored bottles lined the shelves behind a long, dark and highly polished counter with well-used wooden stools positioned along its length. A small stage stood to the left of the bar where a group of musicians, including-obviously- a fiddler were playing a lively tune that had many patrons dancing and laughing, while others clapped along with the beat provided by a large flat drum.

When they finally reached the counter a man with a clean-shaven head, white t-shirt and white apron tied around his waist over dark jeans walked over and silent raised one eyebrow.

"Dark and Stormys all around," Jack declared as he waved a hand towards his group.

The bartender smiled and fixed the drinks and passed them over the bar to the group. He paused when he saw Tim, but smiled and winked as he handed him a glass of amber liquid.

"Cheers, mate," Brigg grinned and downed his quickly before asking for another, while the rest followed suit. Tim took a sip and coughed as the liquid burned his throat. He slowly set the mostly full glass on the bar, unnoticed by Jack and Nerys as they headed towards the group of dancers and were soon lost in the crowed. Brigg and Alice followed, leaving Tim and Artie at the bar.

"Who can I ask for a phone?" He asked, trying to keep up appearances.

"Try the bartender," Artie replied as he joined the group clapping along with the music. Tim tried to get the man's attention but he was occupied with pouring drinks for another group at the other end of the bar.

"Is it always like this?" Tim asked Artie, who just shrugged and grinned. Tim sighed and turned his attention to the people dancing. They truly seemed to be having the time of their lives...and the irony of that thought made Tim wince.

After the song ended and another with an equally lively beat started Tim tried to get the bartender's attention again. The man glanced at him, winked, and went back to his task. Tim turned to Artie to ask another question when the pub suddenly fell silent. He turned to the door and saw a tall man standing in the doorway, dressed in a long Navy peacoat and Greek fisherman's cap perched atop his head of long, dark hair. His equally dark, bushy beard covered most of his face and his eyes were hidden beneath the brim of his cap, although Tim could almost feel the weight of the man's gaze as he casually glanced around the room.

The man soon moved off to a far, dark corner where he sat down at one of the tables and raised a hand to signal the bartender, who quickly moved to answer his summons. After another minute of silence the musicians began to play again and a few moments later the people on the dance floor resumed their movements, seemingly forgetting the interruption within minutes.

"Who was that?" Tim asked Artie in a low voice which barely carried over the music. Artie shook himself and leaned over to Tim to answer.

"Everyone calls him 'The Captain'. Just the title, no last name."

"Kind of like The Doctor?" Tim asked as he tried, unsuccessfully, to hide his own anxiety.

Artie stared at him for a moment before giving him a weak grin, his own fear showing clearly in his eyes.

"Yeah, I guess. He doesn't bother anyone when he comes here, but…" He glanced towards the corner and lowered his voice so Tim had to strain to hear. "He scares the crap out of everyone, whether they'll admit it or not."

"I can imagine…"

Artie flashed him another weak grin as he levered himself from his stool. "I'll bet. I'm going to go try find a dart game. You interested?"

"Maybe later."

"Suit yourself, mate." He clapped Tim on the shoulder and then moved off into the crowd. Tim slowly rose from his own stool and wove his way towards another corner to an unoccupied table where he sat down to watch the rest of the crowd. He noticed that several of the patrons were dressed in non-modern clothing, and he wondered just how long someone could continue to visit this place...and what happened when they no longer could.

Another scan of the crowd brought him up short and he stared at a group of three men seated at a table not far from Tim's own. Although he had only seen their pictures before, he recognized them, and realized with a sinking feeling that he now knew what had happened to the missing crewmen of the _Cerberus_...

The song ended and there was a pause before the fiddler played a short introduction, which caused the bar to erupt in cheers. Another man stepped up to the front of the stage and began to sing as the band played a light, lilting tune.

**_As I roved by the dockside one evening so fair_ **

**_To view the salt waters and take in the salt air_ **

**_I heard an old fisherman singing a song_ **

**_Oh, take me away boys me time is not long_ **

The rest of the patrons cheered again and joined in with the chorus.

**_Wrap me up in me oilskins and jumper_ **

**_No more on the docks I'll be seen_ **

**_Just tell me old shipmates, I'm taking a trip, mates_ **

**_And I'll see you someday on Fiddler's Green_ **

Tim listened to the song, a tale describing the place where he now found himself, a fanciful notion of what a sailor's perfect spot would be.

**_Now Fiddler's Green is a place I've heard tell_ **

**_Where the fishermen go if they don't go to hell_ **

**_Where the weather is fair and the dolphins do play_ **

**_And the cold coast of Greenland is far, far away_ **

As the chorus again rang out through the building, Tim was almost tempted to sing along, but he couldn't bring himself to do so, he had nothing to sing about, really. To his friends, to his family, he was gone. He had no idea if he'd ever see them again.

**_Wrap me up in me oilskins and jumper_ **

**_No more on the docks I'll be seen_ **

**_Just tell me old shipmates, I'm taking a trip, mates_ **

**_And I'll see you someday on Fiddler's Green_ **

**_Where the skies are all clear and there's never a gail_ **

**_And the fish jump on board with one swish on their tail_ **

**_Where you lie at your leisure, there's no work to do_ **

**_And the skipper's below making tea for the crew_ **

**_Wrap me up in me oilskins and jumper_ **

**_No more on the docks I'll be seen_ **

**_Just tell me old shipmates, I'm taking a trip, mates_ **

**_And I'll see you someday on Fiddler's Green_ **

**_Now I don't want a harp nor a halo, not me_ **

**_Just give me a breeze and a good rolling sea_ **

**_I'll play me old squeeze-box as we sail along_ **

**_With the wind in the riggin to sing me a song_ **

**_Wrap me up in me oilskins and jumper_ **

**_No more on the docks I'll be seen_ **

**_Just tell me old shipmates, I'm taking a trip, mates_ **

**_And I'll see you someday on Fiddler's Green_ **

Tim sighed as the last strains of the song faded, so replaced by another, more lively tune. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, willing himself to not let the tears that were gathering fall. He supposed it could always be worse…

He heard slow, heavy footsteps approaching but kept his eyes closed, hoping to stave off any attempts from one of his group - probably Artie - to engage him in conversation. He really didn't feel like talking, not now. The footsteps stopped in front of him and he waited, expecting them to recede. Instead, someone leaned close to him and spoke.

"You don't belong here, do you."

Tim's eyes snapped open at the sound of a deep, gravelly voice and he slowly looked up to meet the dark, terrifying gaze of The Captain.

TBC…

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The song is Fiddler's Green, by John Connelly.  
> https://youtu.be/Muu3gT3o8Uo  
> A "Dark and Stormy" is a traditional drink in Bermuda, made from ginger beer, dark rum and lime juice.


	8. Chapter 7

Tony hated waiting.

He paced the short length of the room, wondering how Gibbs was faring with his fake search for the wayward Petty Officer Tony Donaldson. It frustrated Tony that he couldn't help more with the case, to make sure the man who had destroyed so many lives was punished, but he knew Gibbs had a plan and he had to stick to it.

No matter how much that plan sucked.

Tony sat down to rest on Gibbs bunk. As much as he hated to admit it, he really wasn't up to working on the case now. The effects of whatever drug Worley had given him still lingered. He could still see in his mind that last vision - the pale, cold corpse of his partner reaching for him from the depths. Tony sincerely hoped that wasn't the last image he would have of the man who had watched his back for nearly eight years. He tried to remember their earlier encounters in this case, but each memory made his heart feel heavy.

He missed Tim.

It was an all too familiar feeling. He had mourned his friend during the first few weeks after he and Gibbs had disappeared last year. Later, he had tried to concentrate on moving forward, but the only way to shut down the pain had been to suppress all of his emotions. That hadn't really turned out well for anyone.

After Gibbs and McGee had been rescued, everything had gone back to normal...everything except a lingering anxiety that someone else was going to vanish from his life. He had never expected it to be Tim again.

Tony sighed and rubbed a rough hand over his face. When they finally did get enough to arrest Worley, that wouldn't be the end, not by a long shot. There'd be a trial, and scrutiny into his own place in the case. Then there was the personal aspect. Tim's family would have to be told that one again their son and brother had been lost in the service of his country. Someone would have to break the news to Abby, Ducky, Jimmy...and Ziva. Tony expected the Israeli to react badly, as he knew her guilt in the previous incident nearly matched his own.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening and Gibbs stepping through the doorway. The older man quickly shut the door again before turning to Tony, his eyebrows rising slightly at the sight of his agent.

"You OK?"

"Not really, no. How's the 'search' going?"

"Well, you're officially missing."

"Lucky me. Where's Burley?"

"Keeping an eye on Worley and Johnson."

"I thought you trusted him?"

"I do. Burley's making sure Worley doesn't get to him, too."

"Got it."

A sudden knock on the door caused Tony to leap to his feet in search of somewhere to hide. Gibbs just shook his head as Aherns' voice rang out from behind the closed door.

"Agent Gibbs, I need to speak with you immediately!"

Gibbs opened the door and Aherns barged in, stopping in surprise when he caught sight of Tony.

"I thought he was… Damn it, Gibbs, what in the hell is going on?"

"Someone tried to kill him. Right now we're letting him think he succeeded."

"You have a suspect?" he asked, lowering his voice.

"Yeah. Dr. Worley."

Aherns' eyes widened in surprise before narrowing in anger. "That's impossible. Why would a doctor-?"

"We're still working on that part."

"What's your evidence?"

"My agent was drugged. Worley gave him a patch for seasickness and he started to hallucinate. We found him at the stern of the ship and barely kept him from going overboard."

"Why would he drug your agent? Did someone blow his cover?"

"We don't know yet. What we do know is that Worley has been faking drug tests, and did fake the tests of the three men that disappeared."

"But why?"

"We're hoping you can answer that," Tony replied. "Does he have any reason to have a grudge against you?"

"You think...you think he's drugging sailors, causing them to fall overboard...because of me?"

"Again, does he have a reason?"

Aherns gave a humorless laugh and shook his head. "I barely know the man. He was assigned to the ship before I was given command, and he never served under me before this assignment. From what little interaction we've had, I've had no reason to think he's anything other than a competent doctor."

"I'll need to talk to someone back at NCIS so they can run some searches for us. Maybe there's another connection."

"I'll get it set up for you, Agent Gibbs." He turned to Tony. "I am glad to see you unhurt, Agent Dinozzo." Aherns took a moment to collect himself before heading back to the bridge. Once the two agents were alone again, Tony turned to Gibbs.

"You're going to ask Abby to search, aren't you?" Gibbs nodded. "That means you're going to have to tell her. About McGee."

Gibbs sighed. "Yeah. I know."

XXX

"Mind if I join you?"

Tim mutely shook his head and The Captain pulled out the chair opposite and lowered himself into it. He watched Tim for several moments, those dark eyes reminding Tim of a storm at sea - not just because of their grey color, but the fact that something seemed to be moving within their depths.

The man chuckled and raised his hand to signal the bartender again, who quickly deposited a couple of brown bottles on their table before rushing back to the bar. The Captain raised his with the mouth of the bottle tilted forward and waited for Tim to do the same.

"Beats that godawful Bermudian drink they forced on you any day," he remarked, his tone warming with amusement before he took a long drink of the beverage. Tim hesitantly took a sip and found the drink much more to his liking. The Captain smirked at his expression. "Good, isn't it?" Tim nodded, still unable to speak in the man's presence.

"No need to be so nervous, Timothy McGee. I have no aim to harm you."

"OK…"

The Captain chuckled again. "But I'm right about one thing. You don't belong here. You're not a sailor - not at heart, and not at home." He leaned forward and Tim couldn't help but flinch as an intense stare focused on him. "Tell me what happened to bring you to my domain."

"I, uh...I was working on a case. On a U.S. Navy research ship. Sailors were, uh...disappearing."

The Captain's gaze flicked over to the table where the three familiar sailors sat, talking and laughing.

"I know of 'em. Go on."

"There was a storm, and…" Tim blushed. "I don't handle stuff like that well. Like you said: not a sailor." The Captain nodded, his dark gaze still fixed on Tim. "I couldn't sleep so I decided to get some work done. I, uh, found something relevant to the case and I started to go tell my boss, but...someone hit me. When I woke up I was being dragged in something, and...I guess I was thrown overboard. When I woke up again, I was hanging onto some debris and...someone was coming to rescue me."

"Someone you'd met before."

Tim's eyes widened and he nodded. "How did you know about that?"

"You'd be surprised at what I know...or maybe you wouldn't."

"OK…"

"Tell me about the case. You figured out who was responsible for the sailors' disappearances."

"I think so."

"Tell me."

"I was looking at the patient records and I saw that for one of the tests, all of the results for the three men were exactly the same, which isn't possible. They had to be the same same, not from three different men. The tests were faked."

"There was something in them that someone didn't want you to see." Tim nodded. "Who faked the tests?"

"The only one who could have done it was the ship's doctor."

"His name?"

"Uh...Worley. Dr. Nathan Worley."

The Captain smiled coldly, teeth showing. It was a terrifying sight. "I have been looking for this man. Many sailors have met their end by his hand. The circumstances told me that, but no one could tell me his name."

"But...you knew mine."

"Because you are here."

"Oh." Tim managed to tear his gaze away from The Captain and searched the room for the people who had brought him to this place. Jack and Nerys were still dancing, while Brigg and Alice sat at one of the tables, drinking and offering encouragement to Artie who was engaged in a game of darts with two people Tim didn't recognize. They all looked happy, and he…

"You're not happy here, are you?" Tim returned his attention to The Captain, who was watching him with an almost sympathetic gaze. "Because you don't belong."

"I guess not," Tim replied sadly and took another small sip of his drink. It was good, better than anything he had ever tasted, but it still didn't taste right.

The Captain studied him thoughtfully for several minutes before draining his bottle and rising from his seat. "Come with me."

"What?"

"You don't belong here. You were the victim that never should have been. You don't have to stay."

Tim felt a chill creep down his spine. "Where will I go?"

The Captain smiled and this time it was warm. "Home."

He strode through the crowd, seemingly unnoticed by the revelers. After a brief hesitation, Tim took one last look at the people who had saved him. They took no notice of his scrutiny and he scrambled after the towering figure, also passing through the crowd unnoticed. He burst through the swinging doors and was surprised to see the sun sinking below the horizon, painting the surrounding skies in shades of red and gold.

"Sailor's delight," The Captain muttered with a soft chuckle and started walking towards the south end of the island, away from the harbor. Tim followed and after what seemed like an eternity they rounded the curve of beach. Tim stopped, staring in surprise at the sailing vessel anchored just offshore. It was a large 4-masted sailing ship, constructed of wood that had been stained almost black. The sails, which were tightly curled on their masts, were deep, dark red, and the name of the ship was painted in curling gold letters across the starboard bow. Tim stared in shock, unable to believe what he was seeing.

"Better hurry. It will be close, but I believe I can get you there before sunrise."

"What about...what about the other sailors that Dr. Worley…"

"Their fate has already been decided. Yours was not." He pointed to a longboat that was tied to a rock on shore and Tim gingerly climbed into the vessel, followed by The Captain. In the blink of an eye two other men appeared, one of which grabbed one set of oars and the other pushed the boat away from the beach before climbing on board to grab the second set. Both men ignored him as they started to row towards the ship.

A few minutes later a rope ladder tumbled over the railing of the ship and The Captain started to climb it, followed by Tim and, after they had secured the longboat, the two silent men. When they reached the deck The Captain began barking orders and soon the vessel was underway, headed out to sea. Tim stood at the stern and watched the lights of the island fade in the distance. Soon he felt a presence standing next to him. He didn't have to look to know who it was.

"What about the people who brought me to...the island?"

"They'll remember you being there...and that you found a way back to the ship. They won't remember how."

"And they'll be OK?"

A chuckle. "Of course. They're where they belong." Tim heard the sound of footsteps receding and he watched the horizon. As the lights disappeared, he heard the last lines of the song echo out across the water and into the darkness beyond.

**_Just tell me old shipmates, I'm taking a trip, mates_ **

**_And I'll see you someday on Fiddler's Green_ **

XXX

Tony sat in one of the folding metal chairs which were scattered through their appropriated interrogation room, waiting for the object of the impending session to be escorted in. Johnson, with Abby's help, had determined that the patch Worley had given Tony contained a mix of hallucinogens, any one of which could have caused his temporary leave of absence from reality. Johnson had checked several other patches and only the ones in a single box in a separate locked cabinet contained the mix. Johnson was worried that Worley would claim it was a bad batch and he had nothing to do with it, so the box had been packed up as was ready to send to NCIS on the next available flight out for Abby to do a fingerprint analysis and to confirm that the drugs had been added after they had been packaged. They still had proof that he had used a single sample in the drug tests for the three men, and it was enough to get send him to the brig until they could get him off ship and back to NCIS.

The door to the room opened to allow Gibbs, Burley and Johnson to step into the room, where they were joined a moment later by the ship's commander. Captain Aherns walked over and stood in the corner that faced the door while Tony moved to opposite corner, out of view of the hall. A few moments later a warrant officer escorted Worley into the room. His eyebrows rose in surprise when he saw the group of men, and he snapped to attention when Aherns stepped forward.

"Sit down, Worley."

"Sir? If I may ask, what's going on?"

Aherns glared and Worley slow sat in one of the chairs, unknowingly with his back to Tony. Burley began reciting his Article 31 rights as Gibbs moved to the other side of the table and slid an evidence bag containing the remains of a patch across it. Worley stared at it, puzzlement creasing his features.

"Do you understand your rights?" Burley asked and Worley nodded.

"Yes, of course." He turned to the lead agent. "What is this about, Agent Gibbs?"

"Tell me what this is."

Worley frowned. "It looks like a transdermal patch of some sort. Not whole, obviously, but it does look like one."

"And what would it be used for?"

"To deliver medicine through the skin over time."

"What kind?"

"Well, depending on the type of patch, it could be nicotine for someone who wanted to stop smoking. It could also be scopolamine, to help combat nausea related to motion sickness."

"Or a mix of hallucinogens structurally related to LSD?"

Worley paled but recovered quickly. "I imagine if someone wanted to make something like that, they could…"

"And did. That's what on this patch that you gave to Petty Officer Donaldson last night."

"I'm sorry, I can't talk about patient records-"

"I can, since I was the patient," Tony broke in as he stepped out of his corner. Worley's face went white.

"You...they said you were missing!"

"I got lucky, unlike a few others. Seaman Hawkins, Petty Officer Hamlin, Lt. Commander Seegar...and Agent McGee."

"I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Right. You just faked those sailors' records to hide the dose you were giving them over time before you switched to your deadly little cocktail," Tony snapped and Gibbs put a restraining hand on his arm. "But you didn't need to do that when you poisoned Agent McGee."

"I assure you, I never gave anything to Agent McGee, much less...poison."

"But you gave it to the others. We found the box with the patches containing that mix. Your fingerprints are all over it."

Worley leaned back and smiled. "You have no way to know that. There's no access to the database onboard this ship. You're bluffing."

"We're not bluffing about what's in that patch."

"Maybe you are, but I have to ask: how did you test it? I don't see one of your forensic scientists on board." He smiled when the men remained silent. "You don't have anything, do you?"

"We know you faked the records. Tampering with those-"

"Is grounds to strip you of your rank," Aherns snapped.

"I'd like legal representation now. Oh, wait, you don't have that on this ship, either. Do you?"

"You can wait for your lawyer in the brig." Captain Aherns met Gibbs' gaze and the agent nodded. "Warrant Officer Butler." The door opened and the officer stepped into the room. "Escort Dr. Worley to the brig." He turned to Gibbs. "Separate security system with uninterrupted video surveillance. He won't be able to slip by that, and neither will anyone else." The officer dragged Worley from the room and after Aherns left as well, he sat down in one of the empty chairs, the anger in his expression fading to sadness.

"We can't prove what he did to McGee, can we?" Gibbs glanced at Burley, who shook his head.

"Doesn't look like it."

"Damn. He won't get justice."

"We'll figure it out, Tony. Worley will pay."

"For faking tests. It's not enough, Boss."

Gibbs sighed. "No, it's not."

TBC…


	9. Chapter 8

The night sky was just beginning to lighten when The Captain gave the order to drop anchor. As the silent crew scrambled to comply, Tim moved to the railing and looked out over the water. He could just barely make out the lights of a ship in the distance, moving towards them.

"Is that…?"

"The _Cerberus_? Aye," The Captain replied. He raised his head and sniffed the breeze blowing across the deck. "If the winds favor us, and I'm sure they will, you'll be drifting into her path just in time. Best get a move on, Timothy McGee."

Tim looked towards the gap in the railing that the Captain was eyeing, a slight smile on his face.

"You, uh...you're not actually make me walk the plank, are you?"

The Captain threw back his head and laughed, the rich sound echoing across the water. "No. You're going to make that jump on your own." He guided Tim to the edge of the deck and Tim swallowed nervously as he looked down at the water. The Captain placed a surprisingly gentle and oddly comforting hand on Tim's shoulder. "Last chance to change your mind."

Tim shook his head. "No. I'll be...I'll be fine."

"Aye, you will. But do yourself a favor...well, maybe two."

"What's the first?"

"Let go of your guilt. The crew of the _Whirlwind_ was not your responsibility. Their fate was never your burden to bear."

"OK… I'll try." He hesitated and finally looked up to meet that fearsome gaze for the last time. "What's the second?"

"The next time you're given a chance of returning to these waters...choose the smarter option. I can't guarantee your safe passage a third time."

"Understood. Sir?"

"Yes, Timothy McGee?"

"Thank you."

The Captain smiled and stepped back. "Close your eyes."

Tim complied and after a moment, took one large step and, for what he sincerely hoped was the last time, felt himself falling through the air for a brief moment before he hit the water and slowly sank into the depths.

XXX

Tony stood near the ship's forecastle, his eyes on the calm, dark ocean. Unable to sleep, he had made his way up on deck to wait for dawn and the helo that would be taking them back to civilization...minus a member of their team.

Captain Aherns had been satisfied that they had solved the case, thanking them all for their work, and offering his deepest sympathies for their loss. Tony suspected the man was feeling his own guilt for dragging McGee out on the ship and for the member of his crew who had, indirectly or not, taken his life. Tony wasn't particularly sympathetic, especially since they weren't sure exactly why Worley had targeted those sailors. Abby had managed to get through to them a second time to tell them what she had found, which still didn't give them a motive, although it did give them more information about their suspect.

The disappearances aboard the _Cerberus_ were not the only ones connected to Worley. Over the span of the man's career, every duty station aboard ship had experiences losses from their crews. Usually only one or two, and all of which had been written off as unfortunate accidents, but by their count Worley could be responsible for the deaths of at least fifteen men, not including their agent.

Gibbs had vowed that they would look into everything when they got back to the Yard, that they _would_ find enough to take Worley down for good. Tony, on the other hand, had been much less optimistic. They didn't have the best means of tackling that problem anymore. No one could search data like McGee could...did. Without a body, without witnesses or video, Tony was afraid that Worley would walk, and that not even Gibbs could send him down for the punishment he so richly deserved.

Tony shook his head and looked to the south, then blinked and shook his head again, unable to believe what he was seeing. A strange, glowing mist was rolling over the water from the south and within the swirls of greenish grey vapor he could just barely make out the image of a ship, its dark red sails unfurled in the breeze. Tony blinked once again, only to have the image vanish. He let out a soft, humorless chuckle.

_Guess that stuff isn't completely out of my system, after all._

After tiredly rubbing his eyes and face he took one last look at the ocean wondering, not for the first time, what those last moments had been like for McGee. They had found Worley's empty duffel bag stuffed back in a corner of his rack, and a search with their small, portable ALS had revealed a few hairs and a small dark stain that tested positive for blood. Searches of the security feed had revealed someone of Worley's stature, his face hidden from view, dragging a clearly packed duffel bag along the outside edge of the camera's field of view on deck and returning later with the bag empty. Tony could pretty much predict what it had contained, but unfortunately there was no record of what had happened to those contents. They could only guess, but nevertheless had come to one horrible conclusion.

He sighed and started to turn away, intent on heading to the Mess for a cup of coffee to keep him alert until their transport arrived. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned back, scanning the waves for the source. He saw a flash of white against the dark water and squinted, wondering what it could be.

_Probably just some of the junk you always find out here floating around._

He blinked and squinted harder, trying to make out the dark shape drifting towards him. He could see a flat, rounded white object surrounding the dark shape, and noticed that part of whatever it was was draped over the flat, white...ring.

_Wait a minute. That looks like…_

" _Ahoy! Man overboard!"_

Tony looked over his shoulder to see a sailor standing on the deck above, binoculars in one hand and shouting to someone behind him. The alarm soon sounded and more sailors were rushing out on deck to answer the emergency call. Tony turned back towards the water and quickly found the floating object again, now able to see that it did indeed look like a man in a life ring. The man was slumped forward, his face barely above the water, and Tony noticed he was wearing what looked like a dark jacket. A wave caused the man to shift in the water and suddenly the white letters on the back of his jacket were visible.

_Oh my God…_

"Tony?"

He spun around to find Gibbs and began to gesture excitedly. "Boss, it's McGee! Look!"

Gibbs squinted in the direction he was pointing before his eyes widened in surprise. He hurried down to the deck where they were preparing a lifeboat, Tony on his heels. Gibbs quickly relieved one of the sailors of his binoculars and took another look at the object of the rescue. The expression on Gibbs face caused Tony's heart to sink.

"Boss?"

"He's not moving. Can't tell if he's breathing." Gibbs passed the binoculars to Tony and hurried to the lifeboat to join the crew heading out. There was an argument, but it seemed Gibbs' influence worked and soon he was in the boat with the rest of the men. Tony continued to watch, noting with a sick feeling that he couldn't see McGee moving, either. A flash of a rather creepy scene from one of his favorite movies passed through his mind, and he lowered the binoculars, not wanting to see the team pull McGee up and not have him be in one piece.

After an eternity the lifeboat reached their target and Tony held his breath, waiting to hear…

"Get the medics!" one of the men shouted and Tony gripped the railing so hard his knuckles turned white. The order was passed through the sailors on deck and a minute later the boat started up again. By the time it reached the ship Johnson and two other corpsmen we waiting with a stretcher and a medical kit. They helped haul the limp, soaking wet man up onto the deck and started to work on him, prompting Tony to run down to where they were kneeling around the inert form of his partner.

Gibbs was standing off to the side, holding the life ring, an odd expression on his face.

"Boss?"

"He's alive, Tony. He's going to stay that way."

Johnson looked up, met Gibbs' gaze and nodded with a tight smile. "We'll make sure of that." He and the other two men lifted McGee onto the stretcher and strapped him down before rushing to the sick bay. Tony immediately rushed after them and, after a brief hesitation, Gibbs followed, still clutching the life ring in his hand.

With all of the attention focused on the port side, none of the men and women aboard the _Cerberus_ noticed, off to starboard, a strange, curling fog that covered the water, or the faint figure of the vessel hidden within the mist. By the time the excitement was over the fog, and the ship, had vanished.

XXX

Dr. Nathan Worley sat in his cell, fuming. How in the hell had those agents even come close to figuring out what he had been doing? They obviously lacked medical training, should not have recognized the discrepancy in the records. So how…?

Worley's eyes narrowed. _Johnson. He_ had noticed, and had clearly blabbed to the agents. _Idiot. Never trust an enlisted man for anything._ It was a shame Workey was stuck with the likes of Johnson, instead of someone more highly trained, better educated...and _much_ more dedicated to the integrity of the Navy.

He snorted softly as he remembered what those agents had implied. _Killing people, just to get back at Captain Aherns._ _ **Really?**_ He snorted again. His mission was more important: ridding the Navy of those who were _weak_ , who should have never been allowed to set foot on a ship in the first place. Those afflicted fools didn't deserve to serve on the same ships as those who were made for the position. Worley couldn't understand how someone who clearly didn't have the _stomach_ for it would even want to have their weakness exposed. Someone that stupid, well...he had clearly done them _and_ the world a favor by removing them from it.

The sound of slow, heavy footsteps pulled him from his thoughts and Worley looked up at the door, a worried look crossing his face before he assumed a neutral expression. He half expected Gibbs to appear at the door in another ill-conceived attempt to get him to confess. The corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement. Gibbs was no match for him, more likely to get himself in trouble in the process.

The sounds stopped, just outside of his door, but Worley couldn't see who it was. He leaned against the door and tried to peer through the small, barred window into the corridor beyond, but he could see no one. Suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up and he spun around, shouting in surprise as he found a tall, broad-shouldered man in a Navy pea coat and Greek fisherman's cap standing in his cell, his dark gaze fixed on Worley.

"Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?" He shouted. The man smiled, a gesture that sent shivers down Worley's spine.

"Nathan Samuel Worley," the man intoned, his deep voice dripping with loathing. " _Murderer."_

Worley tried to laugh but what came out was a high-pitched squeak. He cleared his throat and tried again.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Did Gibbs send you? Apparently I've underestimated his flair for the...dramatic."

"You have been accused...and judged."

"Judged, right. And tell me, whom am I supposed to have 'murdered'."

"Peter Easton," the man began, drawing a gasp from Worley.

_How did they…?_

The man eyed him for a moment and continued. "Jan Lancaster. Robert North. Walter Oxenham. Isaac van Ryem. Juan Garcia. Frances Ward. John Ansell. Edward Collier. Anne de Berry. Jose Guartem. John Morris. Bradley Hawkins. Scott Hamlin. Edward Seegar."

The man paused, staring at Worley in silence. Worley chuckled weakly and smirked.

"I notice you left out Timothy McGee. Couldn't prove that, could you?"

"Not my concern."

"Right, of course," Worley sputtered and let out a sharp cry of surprise when his back hit the door of his cell. "So what are you going to do...kill me?" The man said nothing. "Tell me, how am I going to be punished?"

"You'll serve."

"Serve? What are you… Who am I going to serve?"

" _Me_." The man drew himself to his full height, towering over the smaller man. "For the crime of murder, I sentence you to serve..." His voice rang out. " _One hundred years before the mast!"_ He paused and smiled, the expression driving all sense of reason from the cowering doctor's mind. "For _each._ "

A moment later, the silence of the corridor was shattered by a blood curdling scream.

XXX

Tony and Gibbs stood back, watching the three men work on McGee. He hadn't moved or made a sound since he had been brought in, and the lack of response worried Gibbs more than he wanted to admit.

Finally the other two corpsmen moved to another part of sick bay and Johnson walked over to talk to him, positioning himself to still keep an eye on McGee.

"Talk to me," Gibbs demanded and Johnson smiled.

"I think, once he wakes up, he'll be OK. Right now he's pretty dehydrated, and he has a touch of sun poisoning on his neck and the backs of his hands. There are signs of a concussion, and a spot on the back of his head where it looks like he was hit, but otherwise he's in amazingly good shape, considering…"

"But _how?"_ Tony blurted out. "How did he survive? I mean, went went back, we searched that area of the ocean, and…"

"Currents are funny things."

"So he was just out there, floating around all this time?"

Johnson shrugged. "Looks like he found a life preserver and that kept him afloat...and alive." He chuckled. "He's got be the luckiest son of a… luckiest guy I've ever seen."

"Do you think we'll find the others?"

Johnson considered it for a moment and shook his head. "I think we're looking at a once in a million… Hell, once in a _lifetime_ chance. Maybe even several lifetimes."

Before Gibbs could respond the door swung open to reveal a very agitated Captain Aherns. He stopped in surprise when he saw the two agents.

"You… Have you been here all this time? Since Agent McGee was brought down here?"

"Yes, sir."

"But… Agent Burley was with Warrant Officer Butler, and…"

"What's going on, Captain?"

"Worley's gone. Butler and Burley checked his cell less than ten minutes ago. They heard him scream and ran down to the cell. He wasn't in it."

"I need to see, Sir."

"Right, of course. Follow me."

Tony started to join them but stopped when Gibbs turned and held up his hand. "Stay with McGee, Tony. Make sure Worley doesn't get a chance to come after him again."

"Yes, Boss."

Gibbs leaned the life ring against the wall before he followed Aherns to the brig where a clearly upset warrant officer waited outside the cell. Burley stood off to the side, a worried look on his face.

"What happened?"

"No idea, Gibbs. We were talking, we could see Worley clearly on the feed, and then all of a sudden he started freaking out and the feed cut out."

Gibbs looked around the cell and noticed, near the back, a spot of water. He moved to examine the area and was able to discern a pair of quickly evaporating boot prints. Before he could call Burley over to see them, they vanished. Gibbs stared at the place where they had been for a few moments before shaking his head and turning to Aherns.

"I need to see that security feed."

The agents and Aherns followed the warrant officer back to the security room. He quickly re-wound the feed and they watched the tape in silence. Except for a slight flicker a few minutes before the tape cut out, there was nothing.

"Damn it. We need to search the ship...again." He quickly headed for the bridge to organize the search and soon Gibbs and Burley were joined by two groups of sailors. Each agent took a group and set off to comb the ship for the missing doctor. Two hours later they returned, having found nothing. Like his victims, Worley had vanished without a trace.

"You think he jumped ship?" Burley asked.

"Looks like it."

Gibbs relayed the information to Aherns, who ordered the ship to turn around and search the area where they had just been. They found nothing.

Finally the search was called off, and Burley offered to see what else he could find out. Gibbs nodded his thanks before returning to sick bay, accompanied by two guards. He found Tony sitting next to McGee, his hand resting on the younger man's arm. Tony turned when Gibbs entered the room.

"What happened?"

"Couldn't find him. Think he might have taken a header off the stern."

"Suicide?"

"Maybe."

Tony sighed. "Bastard took the easy way out."

Gibbs said nothing, his attention drawn to the man on the gurney. McGee groaned softly, his eyelids fluttering as Tony eagerly leaned over him.

"McGee? You with us, buddy?"

McGee groaned again as his eyes managed to stay open and he met Tony's gaze. "T-tony?" He coughed, prompting Johnson rush over. He grabbed a bottle of water and a straw and opened both before he stuck one end of the straw in the bottle. He carefully brought the other end of the straw to McGee's cracked lips as he slipped his hand under the agent's neck and carefully raised his head.

"Here, Agent McGee, this should help."

McGee managed a few sips before Johnson lowered his head back to the gurney.

"Better?"

McGee nodded. "Thanks," he croaked, wincing at the pain in his throat.

Johnson raised the end of the gurney so McGee could sit up a little. "We'll see how that settles and you can have some more, alright?"

"OK."

He patted his arm and left, allowing Gibbs to move to the other side of the bed.

"How are you feeling, McGee?" He just groaned in response. "That good, huh?"

"Yeah…"

"Do you remember what happened?"

A flash of fear crossed his face before he slowly shook his head. "No, Boss."

"You sure?"

McGee shook his head. "It's all just...a blur." He slowly turned to the man on the other side of the gurney. "You OK, Tony?"

Tony stared at him for a moment before reaching out a slapping the top of his head.

"What...was that for?"

"You scared the crap out of...out of all of us, Tim. Don't you _dare_ do that again!"

"OK…"

Tony continued to glare for another minute before he reached down and pulled the younger man into a tight hug. McGee managed to raise one arm and weakly return the gesture, causing Gibbs to smile.

"You're gonna be fine, Tim."

"Hope so. Boss? I need...a favor."

"What is it?"

McGee looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. "No more boats, Boss. _Please."_

Gibbs grinned. "I think we can manage that, McGee."

McGee smiled, his eyes slipping shut. "Good."

TBC…


	10. Epilogue

News of Worley's disappearance had given them another answer to at least one of the remaining questions. PO Bailey had brought one of his crewmates, a young, stammering electrician's mate named Mark Low, to talk to the agents. Low had revealed that Worley had blackmailed him into screwing up the video feed on those nights when the sailors and McGee had disappeared.

Low claimed he hadn't known why Worley wanted the feed turned off, not at first, but as his suspicions had grown he had confronted Worley. The doctor had reminded him of his power to end the young sailor's career and Low had remained silent until he had heard that Worley was no longer a threat. He refused to confess to altering the feed at the time of Worley's disappearance, however, claiming he had nothing to do with it. His statement was backed up by his rack-mates who said Low had been asleep at the time.

While Low's confession had allowed him to escape an accessory charge,he had been forced to join the agents on the trip back to Norfolk, where he spent a week in the brig before he was bumped down in rank and assigned to menial maintenance on the base.

McGee had slept through the rest of his time aboard ship and through the flight back to Norfolk. After being checked over at the base hospital and ordered to stay overnight for observation, he had made the trip home the next day, ready to help finish the case. Gibbs had confined him to his desk, watched over by Tony. After a day's worth of work, he had finally found the link between all of Worley's suspected victims: they had all been treated by Worley before they disappeared for the same ailment.

"Seasickness?" Tony asked incredulously when McGee announced his finding. "Why would he want to get rid of sailors who got seasick?"

"You guess is as good as mine, Tony."

"But that's just...weird."

"Stranger things have happened," Gibbs added with a significant look at McGee, who refused to meet Gibbs' gaze and tried to give the appearance he was concentrating on his work. Gibbs had a suspicion as to why McGee claimed he didn't remember anything about the time he had been missing, but it wasn't something he was going to discuss in public.

By the end of the day Abby had the results from the patches she had tested. The main supply from the ship contained a small amount of one of the foreign compounds, and the patch they had removed from McGee in sick bay contained none, but Tony's patch and the rest from the other box contained high doses of the drug mixture Johnson had discovered. She speculated that Worley had altered the drug tests so no one would know the sailors were being treated for their condition and thus eliminating a connection between them.

After Aherns reported back that, despite their extensive searches Worley was being considered lost at sea Vance declared the case closed and gave Gibbs and Tony the next few days off.

He recommended that McGee take more time to recover from his experience but the younger man refused, claiming he didn't need more time off than the rest of his team.

"I'm fine, Director. The doctors cleared me to be here."

"They did, but our psychologist hasn't. What you experienced was stressful, correct?"

"Well, yes, a little, but-"

"Which means you'll need some time to decompress. _Take_ the time, Agent McGee. This is not an indictment of your mental state, I assure you. I am simply looking out for a valued asset to this agency. Understood?"

McGee glanced at Gibbs, who gave him a slight nod. "Yes, Director."

"Good. Anything to add, Agent Gibbs?"

"Nope."

"Good. Dismissed."

McGee followed Gibbs out of the office and headed for the stairs, but Gibbs quickly guided him to the elevator. Once they were inside he turned to his agent but McGee spoke first.

"Boss, I'm fine, I don't need-"

"I think you do. My house, 1900. We haven't had a game for awhile."

McGee looked like he was going to argue but after a brief hesitation he relaxed and nodded. "OK, Boss." He winced. "Tony will probably invite himself over, too. He's been...clingy."

Gibbs chuckled. "That's fine. You OK with him being there?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because he wasn't there on the last trip."

McGee sighed. "You want me to talk about what happened."

"Yep."

"Boss, I… I really don't think you'd believe me."

"I _was_ there last time, Tim."

McGee's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Is there something you're not telling _me_ , Boss?"

"I expect I'll be telling you tonight."

McGee sighed again. "OK."

A few hours later Gibbs and McGee were sitting across from each other in Gibbs' living room, the game board between them and a game of checkers in progress. Tony watched from his seat in the armchair, a look of worry on his face. After the game was completed McGee pulled out his chess men and started to set up the board.

"OK, I can't take it anymore," Tony declared. Both men turned to him, eyebrows raised. "Something happened to Tim while he was missing, and you-" He turned to Gibbs. "-know more about it than you're telling."

Gibbs looked at McGee, who nodded and set the box of chessmen on the table before he started to speak.

"It all started with our first trip, when the _Raptor_ went down. We told you we were rescued by a civilian sailing vessel that was later lost in a storm, right?"

"Yeah, I remember, but what does that have to do with-?"

McGee held up his hand and Tony fell silent. "I checked with the missing vessel reports after we… After we got home. I found a report for the boat and people that rescued us. They had been missing for _five_ _years_."

Tony's eyes widened. "Five years? But that's…"

"Impossible. Trust me, I know, but I can't...we can't think of any other way we could have wound up on that island."

"OK, but what does that have to do with what happened to you this time?"

"After someone...Worley threw me overboard, I, well, I guess I woke up the next morning and... I was rescued again by those very same people, on that very same boat. Their side of the story was that after the storm where they disappeared from the boat that Gibbs and I were on, _we_ had disappeared and they thought we had been lost in the storm, along with the dinghy. I told them we had been on it and were stranded, found supplies and survived for a few months before we were rescued."

"Supplies from _their_ boat, that was wrecked."

"Yeah."

"Then what happened?"

"They took me to a port in the middle of nowhere and said I'd be able to contact home, but by the time I got there...I knew there _was_ no way to get home again."

"Why not?"

"The name of the place: _Fiddler's Green_."

"Is that...isn't that an officer's club somewhere?"

Gibbs chuckled softly. "I don't think that's what worried Tim. It's also the name for sailor's heaven."

"Yeah."

Tony glanced back and forth between the two men several times before he was able to form a question. "Wait. You thought you were...dead?" McGee nodded. "But you're not. We found you. _How_ did you get back to where we found you?"

"That's...where things get really weird."

"Hate to break it to you, Tim, but they're already really weird."

"Right…"

"What happened?" Gibbs asked and McGee gave him a weak smile.

"The Captain showed up. That's what they called him, no last name, just The Captain. While I was sitting by myself, trying to figure out what I was going to do, he approached me and... he told me I didn't belong there. He asked how I wound up...where I was, and I told him about the case, and about Worley. The Captain said that a lot of sailors had been...had met their end at the hands of the same person." He looked up at Gibbs. "The three sailors from the _Cerberus_ were there, too. I saw them, and… Anyway, he said he'd been looking for whoever was sending sailors there and he thanked me for providing a name. Then he offered to take me home. He took me to his ship and...that's how I got back to the _Cerberus_."

"What did his ship look like?" Tony asked, his face paling.

"It was an old sailing ship, looked like something from the 17th century. The ship itself was almost black, with dark red sails."

"Oh my God...I saw it. Right before we spotted you. I thought… I thought I was seeing things. Johnson mentioned seeing it, too."

"Did the ship have a name?" McGee nodded reluctantly. "What was it?"

" _The Flying Dutchman_."

"You...you're serious? _**The**_ _Flying Dutchman_?" McGee nodded again. "That means The Captain was…" McGee nodded again, a flush of red creeping up his cheeks. "Holy…"

"So ,now you see why I think the whole thing was just some weird dream. I mean...that's just crazy, right? It's impossible..."

"Not necessarily."

"What do you mean?"

Gibbs rose from his seat and went to the basement, returning a minute later with a large, flat object covered with canvas.

"When you were rescued, you were in a life-ring. _This_ life-ring." Gibbs removed the cover to reveal the name of the vessel painted on the ring in faded blue.

_Whirlwind_

McGee and Tony stared at the ring for several minutes, neither knowing what to say. Finally Gibbs spoke.

"Too bad you don't remember anything, right, Tim?"

McGee looked up at Gibbs and gave him a relieved smile. "Yeah, too bad." He glanced at Tony, who nodded.

"Yeah. Guess it was too traumatic to remember. Good thing there won't be a trial. For Worley, I mean.

Gibbs chuckled softly, remembering what he had seen in Worley's cell. "I think it's been handled."

"Good."

"What now, Boss?"

"Chess?"

McGee smiled. "I think I can handle that."

They played for another hour, with the game ending in a draw. Stifling a yawn, McGee claimed he was ready to head home and Tony admitted he was tired as well. The two younger men left, with Tony making a few goofy comments and McGee good-naturedly rolling his eyes in response.

After the sounds of their cars faded in the distance, Gibbs went to the refrigerator to grab himself a beer. He walked back into the living room and stared at the one piece of evidence that showed there was more to the story than anyone else would have believed. He thought about the people who had rescued his agent-twice-and wondered if, by some remote chance, they would all see each other again.

Someday.

Finally he raised his bottle in a solitary gesture of appreciation. "Fair winds and following seas...wherever you are."

The End

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art For Siren Call](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8227948) by [thecookiemomma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecookiemomma/pseuds/thecookiemomma)




End file.
